Greater Than Good
by gorenrocks
Summary: What happens to Peter and Kwai Chang Caine after Peter takes the brands and becomes a Shaolin priest? Is Laura really alive? Read this story and find out what happens! Feedback is appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

Greater Than Good By Liz Gregg  
  
Chapter 1 WARNING: This chapter contains adult material, a love scene. NOT explicit.

Mary Margaret Skalany stood at the bathroom sink, wrapped snugly in a white terrycloth robe, drying her long hair. The ancient blow-dryer roared and chugged as it coughed gusts of heated air. She prayed silently, as she did most every morning, that it would not catch fire and that she would get one more day out of the antique.  
  
As she lifted and brushed, the routine brought little comfort to her; it barely dulled the gnawing anxiety she felt._ If only I knew what was brewing in his guarded Shaolin mind_. She sighed once; it turned into a big yawn that ended with a shiver. It was half past ten in the morning and she had just gotten home after pulling an all-nighter. The past thirty-six hours had been emotionally draining and physically exhausting. But even though she was so tired that her toes ached, she would probably get little sleep.  
  
Tugging the brush through handfuls of damp chestnut hair, she finally gave in and thought about what had happened. Something had gone terribly wrong - she suspected some terrible influence, maybe even drugs. Whatever it was, Kwai Chang Caine, the most controlled man she'd ever met, had practically -- No. She had to stop denying it - _he had attacked her_. And afterward, Peter Caine had been no help at all - he wouldn't talk about the nasty spell that had gripped his father.  
  
_A spell?_ Yeah, years ago she'd have snickered at the ideas she now accepted without a blink. What happened at Caine's place . . . Christ, it was damn scary. The priest had grabbed her so hard she had bruises on her arms. Whoever assaulted her was not the man she had helped pull out of the Bardo world, not the man she loved with all her heart and wanted to love her in return.  
  
Mary Margaret had to admit that their relationship was, well, undefined. She'd go for weeks and not see Caine at all. Their infrequent dates were short - dinner, a walk, a cup of tea - and never anything more than a chaste goodnight kiss. She almost preferred his open anger to the non-emotion of his Shaolin mask.  
  
So as disturbing as it was, at least her encounter with the Caine from the Dark Side had been real contact. A couple of weeks ago, he'd kissed her at Delancey's - in front of the whole damn bar, and Peter, too! She'd thought things had changed, that he had started to trust her, but since that night nothing more had happened. Why did this damn split-person nightmare have to happen? It was like that science fiction show, Star Trek. She had watched a silly episode where Captain Kirk was split into two separate men: one wimpy and good, one lusty and evil. How the hell could anyone, even Kwai Chang Caine,cope with confronting the core of darkness in their soul? It was all so damn complicated.  
  
She shut off the dryer with a loud click and was disconcerted by the switch to total silence. Giving in to her weariness, she closed her eyes and leaned against the sink. Because she had been forced to return to work, she had privately dubbed the night when Caine kissed her 'The Night of the Missed Chance.' Buried feelings rose to the surface and she let herself feel all of them - the giddy happiness, the fever in her body, and the bittersweet hope of more to come.  
  
Her eyes flew open when she had the sudden awareness that someone had entered her apartment. She wasn't afraid; somehow she knew was safe. When she entered the living room, she saw him. Caine sat on the sofa -- coat off, head back, eyes closed.  
  
She took a sharp breath; his eyes opened and met with hers. Drawing her arms around her chest and hugging herself tightly, she struggled to find her voice.

"I see you changed your hair. Going for a new look?"  
  
Kwai Chang Caine managed a brief, weary smile. But it was soon gone, replaced by sharp lines of deep sadness. Mary Margaret held her breath as Caine, never taking his eyes from hers, rose from the sofa and slowly walked toward her. Tentatively, he reached out to touch her, but then quickly pulled back.

"Mary Margaret," he said, "I am . . . so sorry." She lost her composure; her lips trembled as she tried to blink away the hot tears. _Come on, Mary Margaret, pull yourself together._ She sniffed and wiped her hand across her eyes, then she took a deep breath and steadied her voice.  
  
"Caine, I know that it wasn't really you who tried . . . who grabbed me. You are here now -- shaved head and all. And I'm glad you're here."  
  
Caine didn't smile - didn't move. He pressed his lips together and shifted his gaze away from her.  
  
"Caine, it really is okay."  
  
Their eyes met again and stayed locked for a long, tense moment. The Shaolin said nothing. Cold thoughts emerged, chilling her consciousness. _He looks terrible -- unhappy and upset. His eyes are red and tired. _The priest still did not move, but watched closely as her puzzlement turned into comprehension.

"You're leaving again, aren't you. I thought . . . " _that it was finally our time.  
_  
She couldn't speak, and for a moment she stared down her feet, watching her tears plop into tiny puddles on the hardwood floor. When she finally looked up, she found her voice but she could not bring herself to meet his gaze.

"And Peter? How's he taking it?"  
  
Caine shrugged. "Peter is Shaolin. He will find his path."

_Yeah, right - if he can even see it through his own tears.  
_

"Mary Margaret, " Caine started, but then stopped.  
  
She finally looked into his eyes. Caine reached out again and this time he touched her. Despite everything, his touch heated her skin and sent shivers through her body. His hand lingered, and strong fingers tenderly rubbed her skin and stroked her hair.

Caine closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them, Mary Margaret was drawn into his heart._He -- he's in so much pain! Leaving Peter again is almost too much for him to bear._  
  
The words came out in a breathless rush. "Then why? Why leave?"

"Because I must."  
  
"No, Caine, you don't have to go! Whatever it is, we -- you, me, Peter -- we can figure it out. Stay with us, Caine."  
  
_Stay with me.  
_  
"I...cannot." He gripped her shoulders tightly, not in anger, but as if he feared that if he let go he would lose her forever. Numbly, she continued to absorb his flow of emotions, some guarded and unreadable, but some - the anguish and pain - very strong.  
  
Then all barriers between them disappeared, and she felt his longing, his desperate ache for comfort and understanding. His hands traveled down her arms and squeezed her waist. She sighed, and inched closer to him, pressing her face against his chest, wondering if her salty tears would stain his fine silk shirt.  
  
As if she had given him permission, he pulled her into a crushing embrace. She lifted her head and, to her amazement, his face was streaked with tears. When she stroked his wet cheek, her fingers brushed his lips and he kissed them. The contact electrified her senses; her heart rate tripled. Closing her eyes, she felt his mouth cover hers, kissing her hungrily, and Mary Margaret lost herself in sensations.  
  
The kisses deepened, becoming demanding, and Mary Margaret returned them with equal passion. She slipped open her robe, showing she trusted and wanted him. Caine groaned softly, then slid strong hands under the soft cotton and caressed her naked skin. He touched her intimately, with gentle strokes that caused sparks of pleasure to surge through her body before gathering at her center in a blazing coil of heat.  
  
He stopped long enough to whisper, "Mary Margaret, are you sure this is what you want?"  
  
"Yes," she murmured, before she realized that he already knew, and just wanted to hear her voice. Caine kissed her shoulders, her neck and her face until his mouth found hers again. Fumbling with the small buttons, she finally opened his shirt and began to caress his chest. She felt his body shudder violently; both his hands slid down her back, cupping her rounded flesh and pushing his hard length against her burgeoning arousal.

He carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. She watched him strip, enjoying the view of his lean, powerful muscles. At last he held her, and their limbs clashed and tangled while he kissed her and stroked her with unleashed passion. She needed to touch him everywhere -- needed to feel the hardness of his body, to know he was really here in her bed, finally making love to her. The moment came when she could wait no longer, and she opened herself to him, begging him to take her. He positioned his body between her long legs and with a powerful thrust, they joined in the way that only lovers can. She spent the rest of the day in his arms, and when all energies were spent, they caressed and kissed each other for both an instant and an eternity. Finally, exhausted and satisfied, they slept.

Kwai Chang Caine watched as the hushed-gray hues of dawn filled the room, banishing the dark shadows of the night. While Mary Margaret slept in his arms, Caine savored the quiet closeness, caressing warm skin that felt like satin to his touch. His own breathing matched the steady rhythms of her peaceful slumber, and he could not resist spreading kisses on her hair and shoulders.

Mary Margaret began to stir, stretching and pressing her lithe body against his. Caine tightened his embrace and gently stroked her face. When finally she opened her eyes and smiled at him, his heart twisted; he leaned close and kissed her lips.  
  
"Mm . . . " she sighed, and tickled his back, and for many sweet moments they kissed tenderly. Then, waking more fully, she pulled back, stretched again and looked around the room.  
  
"Seems that morning has broken, Caine. And you haven't changed your mind, have you."  
  
Caine knew she waited for his reply, but found he could not speak. He felt her body tense as she pulled herself from his embrace and sat up on the bed, yanking the sheet up with her.

"So, I guess this is it. Our time being right sure didn't add up to a hell of a lot, did it. When are you leaving?"

"Mary Margaret-- "  
  
"Don't answer -- it'll be soon enough, I'm sure. At least this time you're saying goodbye." She ran slender fingers through her gently tousled hair, and he had to look away from her.

"Yesterday," she continued quietly, "I knew this moment would come, but I'm still not ready." For a few moments there was silence, forcing Caine to look at her. He found her staring at him. "How long this time -- three months? Six months? Or will it be another fifteen-year absence?"  
  
Caine closed his eyes while the blast of her pain bombarded him before joining with his own conflicting emotions. He knew she was angry and hurt, and did not blame her for the sharp words. Still, they struck him with the force of a blow from a skilled opponent. He felt her get out of the bed, and when he opened his eyes he saw her standing by her dresser, wearing her robe, and watching him. Caine read confusion in her eyes, and though she said nothing, he knew her heartache was strong. She turned and leaned against the dresser, facing an old mirror cased in an ornate oak frame. Their gazes met in a wavy reflection. "Maybe it would be better if you just leave now."  
  
Caine nodded, and she quickly looked away. Though he needed to talk to her, he hesitated, doubting he could penetrate her protective wall of anger. While he dressed, he watched her rummage through the top drawer. Abruptly she slammed it shut and then fumbled with a crumpled package of cigarettes. She pulled one out and tapped it down. After plucking at the pack of matches tucked under the cellophane, she lit the cigarette and took a long drag. Caine could keep quiet no longer.  
  
"Mary Margaret, when did you start smoking?"  
  
She answered in a puff of smoke. "I didn't. I quit five years ago."

"I do not understand."  
  
She suddenly slammed down her palm on the top of the dresser. "Dammit! I've kept this pack for five years. My emergency stash. And through all the bullshit I've lived through, I've never needed one. Until now."  
  
"I see," he replied softly, not seeing at all, and unsure how to react to her volatile emotion.  
  
"'I see?'" she snapped. "You can't possibly see, Caine. You have no clue."  
  
"Mary Margaret," he tried again, "you are angry."  
  
"Hell, yes, I'm angry. And do you know why? You think it's because you're leaving, don't you."  
  
"I do not."  
  
She went on as if she hadn't heard him. "Well, you're dead wrong. I - I wouldn't like it, but I could accept if you had to go. And I'd wait for you if I could, and if you wanted me to. It's not because you're leaving. It's because we've waited so long to take this step! Waited four long years to . . . get close. And when does it happen? The day before you have to go on some," she gestured with her hands, creating smoky haloes in the air, "some top-secret, noble quest. I'll never understand why," she finally met his gaze, "why it took us so long."

Caine rubbed his hands together and looked up at the ceiling, wondering if he would be able to speak his feelings.

"I know. Mary Margaret," he moved until he stood directly behind her, close enough to smell the lingering scent of her light perfume, then continued. "The time was not right. I am sorry." Caine paused, remembering fragments of wisdom from a time long ago, _Yet trust does sometimes bring with it a great reward, greater than good . . ._

"Don't be sorry, Caine." Mary Margaret's voice, now calmly resigned, anchored him in the moment. "I'm sorry I held you up. Just go ahead and--"  
  
"Mary Margaret, I--"  
  
"Really, Caine. Please. Go now."  
  
He placed his hands on her shoulders, and brushed his lips against her ears. "Mary Margaret, I cannot leave."  
  
"Yes, you can. I'll be fine." Her eyes were clear and her voice steady, but her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the dresser betrayed her inner turmoil.  
  
Gently, he turned her to face him, snatching the cigarette and extinguishing it with his fingertips. He placed it carefully on the chest of drawers and then he took both her trembling hands in his, massaging the stiff fingers.  
  
"I cannot leave because we must talk. And," he tipped her chin, making her look into his eyes, "because I love you."  
  
Mary Margaret gasped gently and her eyes became bright. She blushed, and her skin turned a soft shade of rose so tempting that Caine felt compelled to kiss both her cheeks before he continued.

"I do not know where my path will take me, or where yours will take you. But when I return, if you still wish it, we will . . . explore all possibilities." Caine felt her arms slip around his waist and he pulled her into a fierce hug. She lifted her face and they kissed, gently teasing at first, then with deepening passion. Hands roamed and bodies merged until he felt the fire of desire begin to control his actions.  
  
Regretfully, he ended the kiss and pulled back. "Mary Margaret, please, listen carefully. I must go, now. You may hear rumors about why I left." He cupped her face with one hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Do not relinquish your trust in me, or your trust in us."  
  
"Caine," she kissed his hand but then shook her head, eyes narrowed with concern, "what the hell is going on? Why the secrecy? Can't you let us help you?"  
  
"There is great danger, to you, and to those close to us." Caine studied her face, so beautiful, so serious and worried. _Perhaps she might be able to help . . . No_. "I fear I have already revealed too much." Caine searched her eyes, silently willing her to understand. "Trust me."  
  
"I seem to have no choice," she snapped, anger flashing in her brown eyes. It didn't last long, and her voice softened. "And I would trust you anyway, even if I had a choice," she smiled, "but you know that already, don't you."  
  
Caine returned her smile. "Yes."  
  
He kissed her once more and they held each other, knowing that this time, they were saying goodbye.  
  
Finally, she pulled away from him and stepped back. "You know, Caine, I don't like sad farewell scenes. So this is what we'll do -- I'm going to hide in the bathroom and smoke another nasty cigarette. When I come out, you can be gone. But other than Peter, I better be the first person you see when you get back. No excuses."  
  
Their eyes captured each other's for a long moment. Reading the nervousness on her face, he sensed she worried he would not agree, so reluctantly, he nodded his head in agreement. Then he watched, with a very un-Shaolin knot in his stomach, as she turned and walked out of the room.

End Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

Greater Than Good

Liz Gregg

Chapter Two

It was very early in the morning, but already Detective Jody Powell cursed the entire Godforsaken day. She was supposed to meet a snitch in the park -- he stood her up. While waiting for the miserable no-show, the raw weather had made her hair a frizzy mess. Now she'd be late reporting for duty, in hot water with Captain Simms, and have nothing to show for her aggravation -- except for a head of hair that made her look like a giant blond Troll.

And if things weren't bad enough already, she'd be arriving at a precinct that no longer included Peter Caine.

_Why, Peter? You said you wanted to help people by being a cop, so why quit?_ Jody was certain there was more to it than what Peter had said at the precinct. His father had left again, and Peter was not happy about it, but she didn't think that it spurred him to resign. She'd heard from Kermit that Peter had saved his father's life, and because of that, Peter had taken the Shaolin brands. _I wonder if that's it, if he had to quit to save his old man's hide._

"Jody."

The voice made her jump; the hand on her shoulder stopped her cold.

"C-- Caine?" Jody shook her head. It was indeed Kwai Chang Caine, but he looked like --well, the man was completely bald! All she could think of was Yul Brenner and she bit her lip to keep from giggling. "What are you doing here? Rumor has it you left town."

"Not...quite yet."

"Does Peter know you're still around?"

Caine looked away, his lips compressed and his jaw clenched. _Wow... quite a display for Mr. Cool_. For the first time Jody noticed that Caine's demeanor lacked its usual serenity. Something must be very wrong.

"Jody, I need your help."

_Say what?_ Jody was intrigued, until she looked at her watch. Damn! She was officially late. She sighed. Hell, this is Kwai Chang Caine - no way I can turn him down! Besides, if Peter ever found out I turned his father away he'd kill me. Then she realized Caine was staring at her, waiting for an answer. Looking around, she spied an empty bench.

Jody grabbed Caine's arm. "Come with me. I'll take you to my new office."

The rain had stopped, but it was damp enough to wet the bench. While Jody dug around in her purse for something to wipe off the moisture, she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Caine had draped his jacket on the seat and waited patiently for her to sit down.

"Don't be ridiculous, Caine! You don't--"

"Please," Caine said. The priest gestured toward the bench, shrugged, then stood stoically with hands clasped together in front of him.

"Okay, okay!" Jody said.

When they were seated, Caine took her hand in his. "Someone has planned to destroy me... and my son. In the process, many innocent people may be harmed."

Jody pulled her hand from his. "Caine, why aren't you telling this to Peter?"

"He is being watched."

"And Mary Margaret?" Jody swore the man blushed.

"No," he said. "And you must not speak of this to her, nor to Peter."

"I'll keep quiet, Caine, if you tell me this -- why me?"

The priest looked up at the sunless sky, then met her gaze. "Because... I trust you."

"Oh."

Caine's eyes burned into hers. She shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "Okay. Start at the beginning."

The Shaolin nodded.

"Two days ago, Lo Si handed me a photograph, one of Peter's mother, Laura. The source is unknown, but someone would have me believe that Laura is alive, and in Paris."

Caine turned his gaze toward the ground, then stared straight ahead, silent. It was good, because it gave her time to let the shocking words sink in. After a moment, Caine spoke quietly,

"It is difficult for me to understand how anyone could believe that I would not know if she were alive."

Abruptly, he shifted his gaze back to her. Deep lines of sadness were chiseled around his eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned sharply down.

"I loved her very much, and I am certain...she is dead."

The last three words were spoken very softly and with and almost ominous calm, but her trained ears detected the slight tremor in his voice. _This man is in pain._

"I'm sorry, Caine. You must have loved Peter's mother very much." Jody squeezed his arm. "I believe you." Taking a deep breath, Jody forged ahead. "Is there someone who looks like Laura who could have posed for the picture?"

Caine covered her hand with his. "The photograph is an excellent forgery. Someone with considerable skill altered an old snapshot of Laura, placing her in Paris."

"Why Paris?"

"I believe it is because my father is also in France. An unknown person is using powerful incentives to lure me away."

"Sure seems that way," Jody said. "You knew right away that the picture was a phony, but you didn't say anything to the Ancient. Does that mean you think he's in on it, too?"

"I...cannot say."

"And you don't want to talk to Peter because you're afraid you'll put him in greater danger," she inferred. "This must be really hard for you, Caine.

"Whoever is behind this deception believes I am weakened from the events of the past two days." Caine brought his hands together and steepled his fingers. "They hoped that since Lo Si presented me with the forgery, I would not question the authenticity. It is true I have been weakened, but I am not debilitated."

"What do you think your next step should be?"

"I must do as they wish, and go to Paris. Only then do I have a chance of unraveling this mystery."

Jody's thoughts briefly turned to Peter, and she wondered how well her friend was taking this latest departure. I'll make sure he goes out with us tonight.

"How can I help, Caine?"

"It is the," he paused, and finger-painted graceful swirls in the air, "things of this world I have difficulties with. My son is no longer at the precinct, and cannot be my... backup." Caine smiled softly. "Will for me?"

"I will try," she answered, "but Caine, can you be a little more specific?"

"You must be on guard, Jody, for a very strong force of evil."

"Caine, I see a dozen different kinds of evil on full parade every single day. How will I know," at a loss for words, she pushed her hair that was by now a frazzled mess, back behind her ears, "when I find what we're looking for?"

"Have faith in yourself. You will know when the darkness makes itself apparent."

They both stood and Caine retrieved his jacket. Jody faced him and he put both his hands on her shoulders. She felt a pleasant tingle, and wondered if, since Peter was now a Shaolin priest, it would feel as good if Peter... Don't go there, Jody. Not now.

"This evil is very strong. Be careful." Caine patted her cheek and winked, and Jody blushed.

"I will. I promise." As Caine walked away, she thought, never a dull moment when the Caine men are in town. Jody looked at her watch and winced, then hurried toward the precinct.

Kermit Griffin seldom made mistakes in judgment. And that fact was due to, among other things, careful observation and logical thinking. But when it came to Shaolin priests, observation was tricky at best, and with one particular Shaolin, logical thinking did not always apply.

Suspecting trouble afoot, Kermit had decided to keep tabs on Kwai Chang Caine. He knew it was an unusual, even unprecedented endeavor - attempting to effectively tail the elusive Shaolin. If anyone was up to the task, though, it was Kermit, but it hadn't been easy.

He'd started when Caine had left Peter at the converted warehouse loft - the place that for three years Caine had called his home. Kermit had a good hunch where the priest was headed, but hadn't anticipated the detours, and for a long while he'd lost Caine's trail. Now he'd finally caught up with Caine and had no intention of losing him again.

He stifled a yawn as he tried to keep up with the Shaolin. The man moved deceptively fast. Based on the information he'd gathered so far, Kermit was almost certain that Caine was going to fly to Paris. Almost positive, but not 100 percent sure. So he planned on waiting until Caine reached the airport before confronting him. But now Kermit was tired of waiting, and decided to take a chance and call Caine's bluff. He picked up his pace until he walked side-by-side with the priest.

"So you're going through with this charade. You must be backed into a corner."

Without losing his stride, Caine glanced at him. "Kermit. I am pleased to have this opportunity to wish you well."

"I know you're going to the airport, Caine."

"Perhaps."

"You're going to Paris. But not to search for Laura Caine."

Caine said nothing, and if anything, only quickened his pace.

"Let me make this crystal clear. I know the picture is a fake." It was Kermit's hand grabbing Caine's arm that finally slowed the priest's pace. "I know it's a fake, Caine, because I made it."

Caine finally stopped. He turned and looked at the detective.

"Did a damn good job, too. But I know it didn't fool you, Caine."

"And...how is it you know that, Kermit?"

"You're not the only one who can read people. Or help a friend in trouble. That is if you'll let me."

Kermit held his breath while Caine continued to stare at him. Finally, Kermit sighed, and removed his green shades, folding them and carefully pushing them in his jacket pocket.

"These babies don't come off for just anyone, Caine."

Caine nodded and grasped Kermit's shoulder. "We need to talk," he said.

Kermit let out a short laugh. "Now, there's your classic understatement. A Shaolin specialty." At Caine's puzzled look, he said "Never mind. Let's go to my apartment -- it's secure." Kermit grinned. "I just swept it this morning, and I don't mean with a broom."

Sitting at Kermit's kitchen table, Caine sipped on a glass of water. Kermit warmed his hands on a cup of instant coffee, his green shades perched securely upon his nose. Able to conduct a closer examination, Kermit acknowledged the priest looked exhausted. He tried to remember something that Peter had once told him -- it was something like, the destiny of a Shaolin is to walk alone. Kermit never quite understood; it seemed to him that walking alone just made Caine and everyone close to him miserable.

"It's been one hell of a wild ride, hasn't it," Kermit said, breaking the silence and forcing himself to face the music. He watched the priest's eyes narrow as Caine set down the glass. Caine sat back and folded his hands, but said nothing. Kermit wasn't quite sure where to start.

"Perhaps start...at the beginning."

"I hate it when you do that, Caine."

"I know."

"Then you may also know I keep up connections with my somewhat checkered past -- never know when I'm going to need them. I was surfing the net, so to ?"

"Short for Internet." How does one explain the Internet to a Shaolin priest? "You've seen my computer, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, imagine thousands of powerful computers, and they're all connected."

"Connected?"

"Yeah, connected. Like telephones." Still a blank stare from Caine. "Or like psychic Shaolin priests."

"Ah. I see."

"Good. Anyway, I was snooping around on an ultra secure network when the image of Laura Caine practically jumped off the screen. Peter had shown me her picture, and you don't forget that face." Kermit took a deep breath, noticing that Caine did, too. Better keep moving ahead with this.

"I did a little digging, and to my utter consternation I learned that someone wanted to manipulate an old passport snapshot into photograph - one that could pass as recent, no more than a few years old."

Kermit took a sip of his coffee. "I knew this was not a good thing. Someone was offering big bucks to get the job done, and I knew that if I blew the whistle it would only postpone the inevitable. So...I took the job to keep an eye on things."

"You did not speak of this to Peter?"

"I spoke of this to no one, Caine. Not even you."

Caine closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Go on."

"I did the entire job, including all the communications, on the computer. Along the way, I did everything I could to find the source. But it's buried, and very deep, too. I couldn't penetrate their security."

_Damn._ It was an admission Kermit hated to make, and not because he had failed. Kermit knew he was damn good, but no one, not even the best, could instantly decipher every code. It didn't change the fact that he wished like hell he had cracked this one.

Kermit drummed his fingers against the cold tile of the tabletop. This kept getting harder, not easier. He was used to giving people bad, sometimes shocking news. As a cop, it was something he had learned to handle. This time, he had to struggle to contain his nervousness about making the next disclosure.

"I made the forgery, contacted the front man and received another major surprise. Full payment would be transmitted to my account when the photo was delivered to one Lo Si of Chinatown."

Kermit paused a moment, waiting for a reaction that didn't come, so he continued. "I knew then it was big trouble in River City. The delivery instructions were clear. The picture had to be hand delivered to the old boy. That was four days ago."

"And Lo Si's reaction?"

"I hired a dependable snitch, and watched from a well-chosen spot across the street. Lo Si was his usual polite, inscrutable self. From my vantage point, I could see that someone else was also watching the scene unfold."

Abruptly, Caine stood. "I fear for Lo Si's safety. We must go to him at once."

"Wait one minute, Caine."

The Shaolin was already headed for the door. Kermit jumped up from his seat, palms pressed on the table. "Caine, stop!"

Caine's entire body stiffened. He turned and sent Kermit a withering look -- but the priest stopped. Kermit wasted no time.

"You're not thinking this through, Caine." Kermit kept his voice low as he moved to stand next to the Shaolin. He placed a hand on Caine's arm. "If you go to him now, you tip your hand. I know you don't want to do that. You still have to lay low. And besides, Lo Si can take care of himself."

Kermit watched as Caine's features relaxed; the fire in his brown eyes faded and the angry compression of his lips softened to a frown of worry. "The evil responsible for these occurrences must believe it is undetected," Caine murmured. "Only then will it be revealed." Caine sighed deeply, and settled heavily into a nearby chair. "You are right, my friend. Thank you."

Kermit leaned against the table. "Don't mention it."

"I am...tired. More so than I thought. My reasoning is not clear."

"Most men wouldn't have survived what you've been through. You have a right to be tired"

Kermit struggled with what to say next. He desperately wanted to help this man who had been there for him so often.

Caine spoke first. "I fear I have also put Mary Margaret in grave danger," he said softly.

So that's where the sly dog disappeared to! "You don't have to say any more. I'll keep an eye on her. And Peter, too." ...and Jody, and the rest of the crew. _Business as usual._

Caine raised one eyebrow. Kermit sighed. "All right, Caine. I'll watch them more closely than I usually do. Better?" Kermit slid his glasses down the bridge of his nose and peered at the priest from over the dark frames.

"Yes. Thank you," said Caine.

Kermit started to speak again, then hesitated. He wanted to say the right thing and to help Caine regain his peace of mind. Kermit wished he could reassure him that everyone, even Kermit himself, had to trust from time to time - rely on people they loved, even if the act of trust carried risk. But now was not the time.

"So, what's next, Caine?"

The priest shrugged. "I must continue my journey. Have you detected anyone following us?"

"Oh, the hounds are out there, sniffing. I think they lost your trail when you spent the night with Skal-" Caine looked at him sharply. "well, they'll be back. You can count on it." Flustered, Kermit looked at his watch, pleased he wasn't blushing. "I need to punch in at the office. Have you booked your flight yet?"

"I have not."

"Then that's what you do next. What will you use to pay for it?"

"I have some...money that I have saved."

"Hold on to it. You might need it when you get to France. Use this." Kermit handed Caine his Visa.

"Kermit, I cannot--"

"Yes, you can. Listen, Caine, you handle matters of a spiritual nature, I'll handle the capital affairs." To Kermit's great relief, Caine's eyes crinkled with amusement and the priest accepted the offered credit card.

"When you're done, come back here and get some rest."

"It is not necessary--"

Kermit held up his hand. "I insist. It is necessary, Caine. You're exhausted, and if you don't--"

"When."

"Excuse me?"

"Even a Shaolin priest can say 'when'. _Occasionally_." Caine snapped fist to palm and saluted the confused detective. "I would be honored to accept your offer of hospitality."

Kermit chuckled and shook his head. "I will never figure out the Caines. Father or son." He looked in the priest's eyes. "Except to know that they're among the few people on this earth I'd have by my side when trouble comes to town."

On an impulse, Kermit extended his hand; Caine grasped it. Their eyes remained locked while they shook hands, and Kermit could feel the energy flow through the priest's warm skin and strong grip. He made a silent vow to do whatever it took to help this man find his answers, freeing Caine to make peace with his son and return to the woman who loved him.

"Come on, Caine. It's time to go. We've both got work to do."

End Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

Greater Than Good  
  
Liz Gregg  
  
Chapter 3  
  
By the time Kermit finally arrived at the precinct he was very late. His captain usually gave him leeway, but as he watched Karen Simms look pointedly at her watch, he realized a break would not be in the works today.  
  
"Griffin, Powell and Skalany - in my office. Now."  
  
So we're all late this morning, Kermit thought. No wonder Simms is pissed off.  
  
Once inside the small, impeccably organized room, Simms wasted no time. "Good afternoon, Detectives," she said, sardonically. "I realize that we are all unhappy about Peter Caine leaving the force. But it is no excuse for mass tardiness. We are backlogged and there's crime in this city to be solved. I will let this go once -- and only once. Am I understood?"  
  
Kermit and Jody nodded their heads in agreement. Skalany didn't react at all, as if she hadn't heard a word. Arms folded, Captain Simms examined the mentally preoccupied detective. "Detective Skalany--"  
  
"Captain Simms," Kermit interrupted, "Skalany has been hit doubly hard by all this." Karen raised both eyebrows. "Young Caine and old Caine both leaving. You know what I mean."  
  
Kermit's tone must have gotten through to Skalany because she looked up, startled. She cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm, uh, I've been hit hard...terribly hard." Skalany pressed her palm against her chest, frowned, and shook her head. "And I'm just...reeling, and, um, very sad. I'm so sad I'm rather...distracted. You know what I mean?"  
  
"No. I most definitely do not." For a moment, Karen Simms regarded the trio, then said, "But I'll let it go for now. Dismissed."  
  
Kermit bee-lined it to his office, and was about go in when he felt two points of heat stab the back of his jacket. He turned to find Jody standing behind him, staring. Kermit stared right back at her. Neither of them moved an inch. "Take a picture," he growled. "It lasts longer." It was then he noticed it, the hint of a shadow in Jody's eyes. Cursing himself for nearly missing a clue, he approached her to try to make amends.  
  
"Jody, I--"  
  
"Shove off, Kermit."  
  
Kermit sighed. He would try again later.  
  
For the rest of the day, Mary Margaret seemed to be in her own world. Kermit would catch her tapping her pen against the desk and smiling to herself. Jody approached her a few times, and Kermit guessed it was with an offer to talk. Each time Skalany shook her head and went back to work. And Kermit noticed that, by unspoken agreement, neither Jody nor Kermit left the building at the same time.  
  
As the slow afternoon wore on, Kermit grew agitated. It seemed to him that Jody was constantly looking at Mary Margaret. Though he knew it was more his impatience than anything else, he decided to talk to Jody Powell.  
  
In three long strides he reached her desk. He stood there, silently, until she finally looked up at him. "You're only drawing more attention to her by constantly staring at her," Kermit hissed.  
  
"I'm not staring at her!" Jody snapped back. "Besides, so what if I am? What's he big deal, Kermit?"  
  
"No big deal." Kermit help up both his hands, palms forward. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm unusually edgy - even for me."  
  
"It's all right, Kermit. I'm edgy, too. And I'm worried about her. Hell, I'm worried about all of us. There's something weird going on around here. Maybe even evil." Stealing another peek at Skalany, she continued, "Mary Margaret should be upset. I mean, she thinks she should be. Kermit, does she look upset to you?"  
  
Kermit didn't answer right away. "What did that mean, 'she thinks she should be?' Wouldn't you be if the man you love walked out of your life for an indefinite period of time? And what do you mean by evil? Do you know something we don't know?"  
  
They both turned their heads to look at Skalany once again. Skalany looked up and noticed them. She smiled and gave them a little half wave. Kermit grumbled, "Somebody should have a talk with her."  
  
Jody looked up at him warily. "Oh yeah? So tell me, Mr. James Bond, what do you mean by that? Why should someone have a talk with her? Do you know something she knows that we all don't know, but should?" She stopped and furrowed her brows. "Don't look at me like that, either! You know what I exactly what I mean!"  
  
Jody stared at him and he held her gaze for a long time. Neither one seemed willing to break the silence. It all suddenly seemed funny, and Kermit grinned. "Come on. Let's go for a walk. And we'll talk." Then Kermit hesitated. "Jody, what about--"  
  
"Mary Margaret," Jody finished for him. "She'll be okay, Kermit. I invited Peter to have drinks with us. Mary Margaret's going, too. Peter's coming here first, and he'll be here any minute. He'll watch out for her."  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
Mary Margaret drifted through the slow day. She noticed Jody and Kermit furtively watching her, yet for the most part avoiding outright contact. I probably shouldn't talk to them anyway. It's hard enough to keep quiet. And it left her alone to think and to remember. For most the day the remembering was very good, too. But as the afternoon crept toward early evening, the gloomy reality that Caine had left town loomed over her. No matter how pleasant their evening together had been, it certainly would not be repeated tonight.  
  
As she straightened her desk and got ready to join the gang at the bar, she turned when she felt a firm grip tighten on her shoulder.  
  
"Peter?" She jumped to stand and nearly tripped over herself, but was steadied by strong hands at her side. Her reaction confused her -- the shortness of breath and the painful lump in her throat. Then it hit her. She had been numbed to the painful reality that she wouldn't be working with Peter anymore. Unless...  
  
"Peter! Are you back? Did you change your mind?" But searching his face, she knew his answer before he said it.  
  
"Uh, Skalany...no."  
  
"Damn. Well, of course you didn't. I don't know why..." The hot tears stung as they filled her eyes. Hastily, she brushed the back of her hand across her face.  
  
"Aw, cut that out, Skalany! You know how cops can talk." Despite his smart words, he pulled her into his arms. "I'll miss you, too, Partner."  
  
For a long moment she let him hold her. Accepting the strong comfort of his arms, she rested her head on his shoulder, inhaling the warm scents of clean soap and mild incense. They shared the tie of love for Peter's father, and it bound them together, but it wasn't just that. During their four year relationship they'd faced so much together that a special bond had formed and it was uniquely their own. Somehow, she'd have to accept the fact that never again would she have a partner like Peter Caine.  
  
Lifting her head, she stepped back. It was time to move on, both literally and figuratively. Taking a deep breath, she pulled his arms from around her waist then took both his hands in hers. Moving back a bit more, she eyed him critically. The young ex-cop wore the usual tight jeans. Though it was the elder Caine who had snared her heart, she could enjoy the view on a purely appreciative level. She looked around quickly to see if Jody was enjoying it, too, but her friend was not in the office.  
  
"Not that I'm complaining, but what brings you back so soon, Partner?"  
  
"I bumped into Kermit and Jody on my way to Delancey's." He pulled one hand away to sweep it through his hair. "Or rather they bumped into me - literally. They had their heads together and were not," he brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, "watching where they were going."  
  
"And...so you're here because?"  
  
"Oh, right!" Peter grinned and rested his hands on his hips. "Kermit asked --no, he ordered me to come here first and get you. Which is my pleasure, of course."  
  
She grinned back then took in the rest of him. Peter wore a long sleeve cotton shirt, very loose, light in both weight and color. That, and something about the way he held his arms...the brands!  
  
"How are your arms, Peter? Are they sore?"  
  
"Yeah, they are. But not too bad. They're healing pretty fast, actually. Must be--"  
  
"A Shaolin thing," they finished in unison, both smiling.  
  
Then Peter looked away. She noticed his jaw tighten. When he looked back his smile was thin. "You ready to go? We can talk more on the way there."  
  
"You miss him already." The night was so beautiful they both decided to walk to the popular cop hangout.  
  
"Yeah." Peter sighed. "It's too soon to really miss him. It's just knowing he's gone that can get to me. I know it sounds crazy."  
  
"Not to me it doesn't."  
  
Peter gave her a wry sideways glance. "You're not exactly objective either,  
Skalany. But you're taking it good. At least you seem to be."  
  
"You're right. I'm doing just fine." Mary Margaret smiled. "So what else troubles you, Peter?"  
  
"Ha! Now you're beginning to sound like him. There's something spooky about all this." Peter touched her arm. "Did my father...did he talk to you about anything? Before he left?"  
  
Oh, boy, she thought. "Yes. He stopped by my place to talk...and to say goodbye."  
  
"Oh, good," Peter said, sounding relieved, "I'm glad he told you about it, because I feel like I'm going to explode! I have to talk to someone about this picture the Ancient found -- the recent picture of my mother." She turned her head sharply. "It's amazing to think there's a chance my mother is alive."  
  
The coldness started in her limbs. It was a numbing heaviness that made it difficult to walk, but she managed to move forward, placing one foot in front of the other. Then it spread to her chest; she had to open her mouth to allow more oxygen to her lungs.  
  
"I don't know." Peter continued. "It seems impossible, but I guess he thinks there must be something to it. Why else would he drop everything to fly to Paris to check it out?"  
  
At this point the freezing paralysis, having permeated her entire body, settled harshly in her in her throat, preventing her from replying with words. With great effort, she managed to produce a "Hmm."  
  
"It's a mystery, all right. You know, this is so emotional for me, and I don't even remember her! I can't imagine what he's going through. She was the great love of his life. Always was, always will be. They are his words exactly. What will it be like for him to see her again?"  
  
Mary Margaret might have been able to talk, but she could not think of one thing to say. This time the silence stretched on too long. Peter stopped cold.  
  
"Skalany, are you all right? My father did tell you about this, didn't he?"  
  
Mary Margaret knew her face was flushed; silently, she blessed the dark cover of night. But the world around her had become distorted - sharp and focused in some spots, blurry and warped in others.  
  
"Mary Margaret?"  
  
She knew Peter had focused his attention on her. Any minute he'd probably conjure up a magic spell and read her mind. She had to get away from his scrutiny and away from everything. They were just outside of Delancey's. Mary Margaret closed her eyes, summoned all her strength and exercised every ounce of control. When she faced Peter her eyes were clear.  
  
"Peter, it's not your fault, but I guess I'm more upset than I thought. I'm not really ready to face it all yet." She was pleased her voice sounded so calm and steady. Through the windows she could see everyone laughing and drinking. She could not go inside and face her friends. Not now.  
  
"Listen, you go on and say hello to everyone. They've all been worrying about you! Tell them you saw me, I'm fine, and that I'm tired and decided to go home."  
  
Peter shook his head. "No way. I don't think that's a good idea."  
  
Mary Margaret forced a smile and stared straight into hazel eyes that were flooded with concern. "Trust me, Partner. Please?" She just had to get him to agree. Then she could escape. "I'll be fine - I promise. I need to be by myself, and...you know how that feels."  
  
Peter nodded his head. "Yes, I do. Okay, Skalany. But you know where I am if you need me." He bent over and kissed her cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow."  
  
Though her legs were weak and it felt like she waded through knee-deep water, Mary Margaret had to walk. So this is it, she thought, the reason for the sudden trip. The cause for all the secrecy.  
  
The air felt crisp and clean, a sharp contrast to the boiling mire of emotions that churned in her gut, making her feel like at any minute she might be violently sick. A long time ago she had fallen in love with Kwai Chang Caine. She thought that last night, finally, he had fallen in love with her, too.  
  
_What an idiot I am.  
_  
Caine had warned her about rumors, but this wasn't barstool speculation, this was from Peter! Caine had talked about trusting him. _Well, I trusted him. Big mistake.  
  
_There was no way on God's green earth she could compete with Laura Caine. It was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. The woman had been Caine's wife, the love of his life, the mother of his child. How could she -- why would she ever interfere with that? Of all the things Caine could have been searching for, another women never entered her mind. And now to learn he had gone off to search for the beautiful Laura Caine.  
  
She had to stop thinking about it or she would go mad. Going home was not an option. Since her car was in the shop, she hailed a cab. As she got in, she gave the driver the address to an Irish pub she hadn't frequented in years. No one would look for her there, which was good, because she didn't want to talk. She wanted to drink.  
  
_Get drunk and forget._  
  
End Chapter Three. 


	4. Chapter 4

Greater Than Good

Liz Gregg

Chapter 4

"Hey, Skalany -- wait a minute!"

Peter watched her turn and smile at him half-heartedly. One arm wrapped around her waist, she lifted her free arm and weakly waved good-bye. Her lips moved, and though she spoke too softly for him to hear, he knew what she said.

_Trust me, Partner. _

Peter leaned back against the cold wall with his neck arched. His head scraped against the rough brick and he blew out a deep breath. Skalany told him Caine talked to her before he said goodbye, but she didn't mention exactly what he'd said and Peter just assumed... He straightened his body and rubbed his temples.

_Why did I talk about that damn picture?_

Peter knew that he upset Skalany and he thought he knew why, too. His own pain blinded him and he didn't pick up on Skalany's distress until he completely unloaded what was crushing his heart. In the process it seemed he broke unintentionally broke Mary Margaret's heart, too.

And stronger than her heartache, he felt her urgent need to get away and to be alone with her feelings. It wasn't his place to deny her that. He knew what it felt like to need space to cry. What could he have done? Followed her around all night and tried to baby-sit her? Just the idea almost made him laugh; Mary Margaret Skalany would have none of that!

What's the worse thing that could happen? Her car was being fixed so he knew she couldn't drink and drive. Peter guessed she'd go home; maybe she'd get good and drunk. In the morning Peter would stop by the precinct and make sure she was all right. His father would want him to watch out for her, but he'd do it to reassure himself.

Not for the first time he wondered why, of all the women in Chinatown, his father would choose to date his partner. Though he'd never wanted her as anything other than a friend she owned a special place in Peter's heart. Before today he'd doubted that she was aware of that fact, but after their moment together in the precinct, Peter knew he had a home in her heart, too.

_Skalany and my father_, thought Peter with a sigh. As he walked into Delancey's, he acknowledged that he felt ambivalent and sometimes even jealous about their relationship. He'd been without his father for fifteen long years and there were still times when he didn't want to share him - still days when he wanted his dad all to himself. Sometimes he became a grieving child again and wanted endless reassurance. Sometimes he felt like a confused adolescent, struggling to cope with life outside the temple, feeling lonely and abandoned by his _dead_ father.

And now, Caine had left him again.

_Whoa - time to end the pity party, Caine,_ he told himself, and wound his way through the crowded bar, stopping along the way as friends wished him well. With every step he took his uneasiness grew. Finally he reached the table with Kermit and Jody.

"Hey, kid, pull up a chair." Kermit looked around. "What took you so long? Mary Margaret talk your ear off? Where is she, by the way?"

Peter swallowed. "Skalany's not here. She said she was tired and needed some time to herself."

"What? How long ago?"

"It's been about fifteen minutes."

Kermit squeezed Jody's arm and stood. "Let's get out of here."

Once outside, they huddled by the door of the packed bar.

Kermit asked, "Did she say where she was headed?"

"She said she was going home," Peter answered.

"What did you and Skalany talk about?"

When Peter finished his account, Kermit frowned and shook his head.

"Where, Jody? Where would she go?" Kermit asked.

"What the hell is going on?" Peter exploded. "Is Skalany in some kind of trouble?"

"We have to split up," Kermit continued, as if he hadn't heard Peter. "Jody--"

Peter grabbed Kermit's arm. Kermit stiffened as he snapped his head toward Peter. "I've had it with being ignored," Peter shouted in his face, "and I want some answers -- now. Is Skalany being threatened? Or stalked?"

Peter felt the tension bearing down on them like a giant, thirsty sponge, absorbing their energy and confusion and hurling it back as fear and anger. Then he studied Kermit - his friend's face was dark with rage as he stared at Peter's fingers, clamped tightly around Kermit's upper arm.

The young Shaolin took a deep breath and released his grip on Kermit. The detective stepped back, his face and movements a study in control. He shook out his arm and smoothed the creased sleeve.

"Peter, I remember asking you to escort her to Delancey's." Kermit voice was tight with anger as he spoke with lethal precision. "A simple request. I don't know--"

"Back off, Kermit," Jody interrupted. "Peter has no idea what's going on."

"That's right!" Peter clenched his fists in frustration. "And _Peter_ would sure love to know. Jody, please. Tell me."

The blonde detective faced him. "The truth, Peter," Jody glanced briefly at Kermit then again at her one time partner, "is that we don't really know. But we have reason to believe she's being followed."

"Why? Whatever it is, you can trust me."

"This time, Kid, you'll have to trust us." Kermit's voice was calm, and his demeanor was all business. "Detective Powell, go to the precinct. Tell them to let you know if she shows up there, then go back and wait at Delancey's. Peter, check her apartment." Kermit fished in his pocket and pulled out keys. "I'll roam around town. I have a few ideas up my sleeve. We'll check in with Jody in an hour."

Kermit looked up and examined the cloudless sky. "It's a clear one tonight," he looked at Peter and then Jody, "and it's a full moon, too. We have a lost lamb out there. Let's find her before the wolves eat her alive."

Although both places had to be checked, Kermit knew Mary Margaret did not go home or back to the precinct. He cruised the streets in his Corvair and stopped at a few local cop hangouts. His mind kept working on the problem, reviewing every option. _Where would she go? _He figured she wanted to hide, but he had to find her. Damn. He'd promised Caine he would watch out for her.

As he drove, he had an idea. He called Jody at Delancey's.

"Did you find her?" Jody asked, almost shouting, he guessed, to be heard over the din of the jammed bar.

"No," Kermit answered tiredly. "And neither did you. But I have an idea. Do you know where Skalany was stationed before she was transferred to the 101st?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do." Jody said, giving him the information.

Kermit grinned. "Bingo! I think I know where she is."

"Where are you going? You might need some back up!"

_Not this time,_ thought Kermit, and he ended the connection.

Bill Foster could hardly believe his good fortune. He smiled as he downed another Kamikaze, the featured drink at the little Irish pub named Kelly's.

Irish ballads wailed from the jukebox and a few of the patrons played pool. Bill used to be a cop who worked with Mary Margaret Skalany and Kelly's had been the precinct's local hangout. Since then the establishment had changed hands and had become run-down, but the atmosphere was mellow and the lights were kept down low.

Bill had always thought that Mary Margaret was a classy lady - tough, and a good cop, but not afraid to show off her feminine assets. He was shocked but delighted when she walked into the bar, and immediately he whisked her away to sit with him.

"Another round, Jimmy," Bill declared to the bartender. They sat at the bar; their chairs pushed closely together, his arm loosely draped around the back of her barstool. They laughed about old times and shared old stories.

"I don't know how you handle the pressure, Mary," Bill said as he stared at his fresh drink. "I know I couldn't. That's why I switched to mall security. Less hassle, less pressure."

"Didn't you quit being a cop to stop drinking, Billy?" Mary Margaret asked as she downed her third vodka laced with lime.

Bill thought about it. As a cop he had hit the bottle to often to quiet his demons. For a couple of years after he quit his drinking slowed but now he drank as much or more as he ever did.

"But this is different, Mary! Tonight I'm drinking because I want to. You know, to have a good time. Back then, I had to have a drink! Nowadays, I can stop anytime I want."

"Sounds good to me, Bill."

Mary Margaret flashed him a dazzling smile, and Bill stared at the slender, chestnut-haired woman. God, she's even more beautiful than I remember! Bill knew he still looked pretty decent, with his blond hair, blue eyes and lean six-foot plus frame. True, his divorce had aged him a bit, but he believed he had a good chance with his old partner. And he was quite pleased to notice she wore no ring on either hand.

Bill moved his arm and let it settle on her shoulders, hooking his hand around her arm and squeezing gently. Mary Margaret gasped and stiffened. Immediately, he let go.

"Sorry Mares." Bill said, looking down and feeling sheepish.

"It's all right, Bill. But you have to know that's not where we're headed tonight. Do you get it? Because if you don't, I'm out of here."

It was then Bill took a really close look at her, and noticed her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes.

"I understand, Mary. You look like you've had a bad day. You wanna talk about it?"

Bill watched her eyes fill with tears, and he felt sorry for her. Soothingly, he said, "I'm sorry I brought it up. If you just want a friend to help you forget, then I'm your man. Why don't we leave here?" Bill stood and grabbed his jacket. "I'll take you to nice place where we can get something to eat. Maybe listen to music. No strings attached." He meant every word of it, but he was still optimistic. After all, the night was young and full of possibilities.

Mary Margaret nodded her head. "Good idea, Billy. I haven't eaten since lunch. Let's hit it."

She tried to stand and swayed, so she quickly sat again. "Oh, boy. Got up too quickly. Let's try that again."

This time, Bill gently held his hand at her elbow and supported her. She teetered a bit, but managed to put on her coat and pick up her bag. Bill had been drinking heavily too, but he knew how to pace himself. He guided her out of the room and toward the side exit. He pushed open the heavy wood door and they stepped out into the cold air.

Mary Margaret looked up at the starry sky, looked down at the ground and said, "I think I'm going to toss my cookies."

Feeling helpless, Bill watched her, wondering what to do. He didn't feel the gun slam savagely against the side of his head. Silently, he dropped to the ground.

Mary Margaret heard the approaching footsteps and thought it was Bill. She waved her hand to motion him away when a fist rammed into her ribs. The blow winded her and she fell to her knees, clutching her side. Through the haze of pain and nausea she made out boots kicking Bill in the back and side as he lay unconscious. Two rough hands yanked her to her feet.

Two men in ski masks restrained her. The taller one squeezed her so hard that she winced in pain. "Does it hurt?" he hissed, "Enjoy it. You won't be feeling anything soon enough."

The shorter of the two stared at her, his meaning obvious even through the ski mask. The taller one spoke again. "Don't even think about it. Our orders are clear. Let's take her out of sight and do it."

"Pity," the shorter one sneered.

"The pity is that I can't just kill you and then wipe the mess up with your face." The menacing voice drifted out from the shadows. "Unfortunately, I'm a police officer, and we have rules about these things."

Kermit appeared in the darkness and slowly walked closer. His gun was drawn and aimed at the shorter one. Before they could say anything, Kermit kicked the gun out of the shorter one's hand; the man screamed as his wrist shattered with an audible crack. "But I don't like following rules, moron, so don't pick it up. And I will kill you, Shorty. Believe me, nothing would make me happier."

Shorty cradled his injured hand. The taller man held his gun to Skalany's head. "Okay, cop. Try anything else and I'll shoot."

"So, you think you're a tough customer," sneered Kermit. "You're going to kill her anyway, so tell me, why should I wait to kill you?"

Mary Margaret seized her opportunity and elbowed the tall man's gut then knocked the gun out of his hand. Struggling for control, they both fell to the ground, Mary Margaret on top.

Keeping an eye on Shorty, Kermit kicked the gun away, pulled Skalany off the tall man and then jammed a foot on his chest. Mary Margaret retrieved the dropped gun and aimed it at Shorty so Kermit could fix on taller one. With everything relatively stable, Kermit pulled out his cell phone out called in for backup and an ambulance, adding quietly, "Call Jody and tell her the lamb is in the fold."

End Part 4


	5. Chapter 5

Greater Than Good

Chapter 5

Interlude: Caine

It was late afternoon, and I returned to Kermit's apartment after procuring a ticket to France. The flight would depart early in the morning. Kermit was correct: I was exhausted from the events of the past few days. The upcoming journey could prove to be long and strenuous. I should use the time to rest.

But as I lay on the living room floor, I could not sleep, for serenity eluded me. Blood raced through my veins and I was unable to slow its rapid pulse. I could not embrace nor dispel the endless images that flashed through my mind. With a sigh, I permitted myself to indulge in introspection.

For four years I lived in this city, yet I did not accept it as my home. I offered my assistance to friends, but seldom asked for their help in return, for I was unwilling to risk causing them harm and bearing the weight of further loss. So I acknowledged that by shielding myself, I often appeared aloof and uncaring; my silence implied lack of trust and indifference to opinions.

I could no longer lay still; my mouth was dry and my body was unusually warm, as if gripped by a fever. I rose and walked to the small window in the kitchen. Gripping the sill, I stared at the single tree within my view and thought back to the time when I first came to this town. I was drawn to a vibrant woman who freely gave me her friendship. As time passed, she kept her heart open and recently her love helped save my life. Yet until last night I kept her at arms length and loved her without warmth. Indeed, in all my relationships I did not give myself fully -- not as a lover, not as a friend...not as a father to my only child.

_Peter_.

I closed my eyes and lay my burning cheek against the cool plate of glass.

I was ready, finally, to consider my Peter, my beloved son. Lo Si told me that when he took the brands, Peter faced his fear and uncertainty with honesty and strength. I saw him standing bravely in the loft when I told him of my journey to France, and...and when I said goodbye. His voice strong and steady, his eyes clear and dry, he did little to betray the fact that once again, I broke his heart.

In my life I have also endured heartache and fear, but I cannot say I have faced them with the same courage and honor as my son.

Confronted with yet another perilous mystery, I have chosen to go off on my own rather than enlist the aid of those I love. But this time, as Peter might say, my heart is not in it.

I meditated, studied the sacred writings, and consulted the wisdom of my master. I quoted passages of the Tao that supported my conclusions and logically justified my decisions. Yet my heart bled sorrow that took shape and form in the hot tears that wet my cheek and streaked the windowpane. Was there no writing, no consult or contemplation that would counsel me differently? From somewhere deep inside me, I heard the whispered plea, Kwai Chang Caine, it is time to cease your wandering. Look deep into the eyes of the son who loves you and you will find your answers there.

Emotionally exhausted, I made my way to the living room and collapsed on the sofa. Time passed in a restless state of agitated sleeplessness. Then stillness fell upon the room and blurred figures emerged from the silent shadows. Gradually, the images sharpened and I saw my grandfather, Kwai Chang Caine, as a boy, seated and talking to his teacher, Master Kan.

Master Kan said, "Deal with evil through strength--but affirm the good in man through trust. In this way, we are prepared for evil, but we encourage good."

"And is good our great reward for trusting?" asked young Caine.

"In striving for an ideal," answered Master Kan, "we do not seek rewards. Yet trust does sometimes bring with it a great reward--even greater than good."

"What is greater than good?" asked young Caine.

Master Kan answered, "Love."

The vision roused me from my fitful slumber. I attempted to reflect on it and determine its significance, when my contemplation was disrupted. I focused my attention and I could feel impending terror -- it belonged to Mary Margaret. I had to go to her at once.

End Chapter Five


	6. Chapter 6

Greater Than Good  
  
Liz Gregg  
  
Chapter 6  
  
WARNING: Some Adult Content Not Explicit  
  
Mary Margaret's side throbbed and she had a splitting headache. Her entire body felt like an aching bag of bones and she worried that she looked worse than she felt. She finished cuffing the thug with the broken wrist to a Dumpster before she knelt beside Bill and held his hand. Though Kermit had assured her Bill's vital signs were fine and even covered him with his jacket in case of shock, Mary Margaret worried that her friend did not yet regain consciousness.  
  
"Thank you again, Kermit. I owe you big time for this. As soon I know that Bill is okay, I'm out of here."  
  
Never taking his eye off his prisoner, Kermit asked, "Where are you going?"  
  
"I don't know. But I'll figure it out."  
  
"Skalany, don't go anywhere. You don't know all the facts."  
  
Mary Margaret rubbed Bill's hand. "What facts can you give me that will make me feel better?"  
  
"It is time for the truth."  
  
The quiet voice shocked her: Kwai Chang Caine. She watched him approach from the dark alleyway, as the wail of the sirens grew louder.  
  
"No. No thank you, Caine," she said. "Peter filled me in. I've had enough facts for one night." She didn't know why the priest was there, and at the moment, she didn't care. She rose to her feet. Damn! I wish I could just disappear. Become invisible.  
  
The priest said nothing, but he knelt down next to Bill. Caine touched the man's face and forehead and felt his pulse, and then looked up at the detectives. "He has had much alcohol and has suffered a heavy blow, but he will recover fully from his injuries."  
  
Kermit nodded. "Good. That's what I thought, too. But how'd you know we were here--never-mind."  
  
Caine stood. "I arrived at the end of the confrontation. I would not have been in time to..." The priest took a deep breath then folded his hands in front of his body. "Kermit, you saved her life. I am in your debt."  
  
Just as Caine said that, two black-and-whites and an ambulance pulled into the narrow side street, screeching to a halt. Four officers and two EMTs jumped out. Caine stepped away and the technicians went to work tending to Bill's injuries and moving him to a stretcher. Two cops ran to Kermit and the thugs. One stayed at the cruiser, talking into the radio; one approached Mary Margaret.  
  
"Were you hurt?" he asked.  
  
"No, I'm fine."  
  
"Skalany," Kermit started.  
  
"I said I'm fine. Really."  
  
The cop nodded and then looked questioningly at Caine. Mary Margaret finally met Caine's gaze; his eyes narrowed with concern. Once again, she felt the strong pull of being emotionally drawn very close to him. She shut her eyes and shook her head. It wasn't the time and she was still very angry. But there was the matter of the cops, so she opened her eyes. "No, not him. He's with me."  
  
Then she looked directly at Caine. "I don't suppose you'll let me sneak out of here."  
  
Caine shook his head, and took her hand in his. She tried to pull it away but she found she could not break free of his grasp.  
  
"May I talk with you?" Caine tilted his head in the direction of Kermit's Corvair, which was parked a good bit away from the hustle and noise of the crime scene. With a sigh, Mary Margaret nodded, and they walked till they stood next to the classic sedan.  
  
"Okay, Caine. Say what you're going to say. Then let me leave."  
  
"Mary Margaret, I..." Caine released her hand and for a moment, he looked up at the stars. Then he looked back at her. "I thought it would be safer if I did not tell you or Peter everything I know."  
  
"Everything? So there's more to this than Peter told me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm finished here, kids." Kermit's booming voice interrupted them. "Skalany, you can make your statement first thing in the morning. Let's get the hell out of here."  
  
As Skalany climbed into the car she groaned with pain and wondered if she had broken a rib. "Hell of a way to sober up. Did you get the license plate of the truck that hit me?"  
  
Already buckled up in the driver's seat, Kermit laughed. "It wasn't a truck, my dear. It was a fist, and a rather large one at that."  
  
She felt gentle hands help ease her into the seat and then carefully fasten her seatbelt. "Your rib is not broken, merely bruised."  
  
She looked up, but Caine was already gone. Turning painfully in her seat, she saw he had somehow squeezed into the back. "How do you know that?"  
  
Caine shrugged. "Once the full effect of the alcohol wears off, you will experience more pain."  
  
"It can't be as bad as the pain of the last few hours."  
  
"Now would be good, Caine," Kermit prompted, and he steered the Corvair onto the main road. "You said it yourself; it's time for the truth."  
  
"It may be helpful if she heard the truth from you."  
  
"All right," Kermit sighed. "Skalany, the picture of Laura Caine is not legitimate. And before you ask me how I know, I'll tell you -- because I made it myself."  
  
"You, Kermit? Why?"  
  
"I'm gonna need to type this up and print handouts," Kermit muttered. "The reason I made the phony picture was to stay on top of a dangerous situation. I knew something ugly was about to go down. Skalany, the fact is -- and Caine, I'm sorry if this is blunt - but the fact is that Laura Caine is dead. Period. And someone is spending a lot of time and money to make it look otherwise.  
  
"And Caine has been trying to find out why while trying to protect everyone at the same time."  
  
Mary Margaret leaned back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. She felt foolish and angry at the same time. Maybe she did overreact, but how was she to know? It was almost like she'd been set up for a fall. She wished Caine had told her everything, wished she'd never met him, wished she'd met him ten years ago . . . wish, wish, wish. If wishes were dollars, she'd be a millionaire.  
  
Feeling movement at her side, she looked down to see Caine's arm snaking in between her seat and the door. She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been gripping the armrest until Caine pried her fingers away and then linked them gently between his. As lousy as she felt, she couldn't help but smile. The Shaolin said nothing and she realized Kermit had stopped talking, too. For the most part she was relieved, because she needed the time to put things in their place. But after the night she'd just had, she felt shook-up and still a little frightened. When Caine gently squeezed her hand she returned the pressure as she reached up to wipe the one tear that trickled slowly down her face.  
  
"I need to speak with Kermit."  
  
Mary Margaret stood next to Caine and Kermit in front of her apartment.  
  
"Of course. Do you want me to wait inside?"  
  
"No." Caine gently touched her face, and she could feel her anger start to dissipate. "I will not be long."  
  
Mary Margaret watched as Caine turned and rested his arm on the side of the Corvair. "Thank you again, Kermit. I will stay with her tonight."  
  
"Don't thank me, Caine. And that's a good idea." The detective rubbed his jaw. "I gave Jody an update. It was necessary."  
  
Caine nodded. "And . . . Peter?"  
  
"He had a rough night. I talked to him, briefly, to tell him we found Skalany, and that she was fine. He was worried and nervous, but nothing unusual for Peter. He'll have a ton of questions tomorrow, though."  
  
"I would prefer to talk to Peter myself. However, if the need arises, I trust your judgment. And Kermit..." Caine said, then hesitated.  
  
"What is it, Caine?"  
  
"In the car, you stated with certainty that...Laura is dead."  
  
"Yes, I did. I wondered if you'd ask me about it."  
  
"Then you also know this for a fact?"  
  
"Before I made the fake photograph, I had to be sure. I still have connections, and... Caine, are you satisfied if I tell you it's definite? Or do you want the details?"  
  
"It is something I have always known. I am satisfied with your word."  
  
The priest squeezed Kermit's shoulder once and Kermit pulled away. Caine turned toward Mary Margaret and she opened her arms. Despite the pain she pulled him into an embrace.  
  
"I am so sorry," she said, "that you're going through this. I didn't think about how hard this must be for you."  
  
The priest quickly stepped back. "Mary Margaret, all this was over a long time ago. It is you I am worried about."  
  
She sighed. "Let's go inside, Caine."  
  
Arm-in-arm, they walked toward her apartment. She never imagined the evening would end like this. Be careful what you wish for, she thought, and was afraid to wonder just what tomorrow would bring.  
  
The blow dryer stopped and Mary Margaret came in the living room wearing her robe. "I'm distinctly experiencing Deja Vu all over again," she teased, and they both smiled. She slid onto the sofa and carefully leaned into his arms.  
  
"We must get ice on that bruise."  
  
"Nah. It's fine.  
  
"Mary Margaret, if you do not--"  
  
"Caine, trust me." The priest started again but Skalany pressed a finger on his lips. "I'm used to taking care of myself. Now be quiet and listen to me. I need to tell you that I'm sorry. I thought Laura was alive and I-I just wanted to drop off the face of the earth. I know that in your own way you tried to warn me, but I didn't understand."  
  
Touching the curve of her chin, Caine seemed to struggle to find the words. Finally, he said, "Tomorrow, I must be on the plane to France." Looking deeply in her eyes, he gave his words great emphasis. "Too much has happened to propel me toward this event. I must follow my path. I fear dire consequences if I do not."  
  
"I understand. In my own way." Leaning over, she kissed his cheek and did not move away. Caine stroked her face, sliding his fingers into her hair, pulling her close so he could kiss her. Opening her robe he caressed her tingling skin. She broke the kiss, allowing his mouth to move down her neck to her chest, and she sighed when his lips attended to her sensitive flesh.  
  
The telephone ringing broke the moment. Mary Margaret shifted and attempted to rise, but Caine tightened his hold and continued his attentions with increased vigor.  
  
"Caine," she murmured, "I gotta get this."  
  
With a final nip and kiss, the Shaolin relinquished his grip.  
  
"Hurry."  
  
A short time passed before Caine heard her voice. "Caine?"  
  
"In here."  
  
Caine watched as Mary Margaret entered the bedroom and found him lying under the sheet. "You Shaolins don't waste any time!" She said with smirk. "That was Kermit. Bill is fine. His sister came to the hospital to be with him. The two jerks that attacked us have long records but aren't affiliated with anyone we can trace. Kermit is coming at five in the morning to give you a ride to the airport and won't take no for an answer."  
  
"Very well," Caine said. He extended his hand and said, "Now, come to bed."  
  
Standing next to the edge of the bed she took off her robe, blushing as Caine's hungry eyes scanned the length of her body. "You are so beautiful, Mary Margaret," he whispered softly.  
  
Mary Margaret slipped into bed with her lover and snuggled close to his nude body. He knew she felt loved and secure in his embrace and the press of her warm curves caused him to become fully aroused.  
  
"You put yourself in great danger tonight," Caine said seriously. "We must discuss your stress reduction techniques. But not now."  
  
"Yeah? And what're going to do now? Try to get me to put ice on my ribs? Because if you do--"  
  
It was Caine's turn to silence her with a finger to her lips, quickly replaced by his mouth covering hers for an urgent kiss. Caine rolled to his back and carefully maneuvered her on top of him. His hands traveled down her body till they cupped her flesh and pushed her against his hard length. He made love to her tenderly, kissing her intimately and stroking her gently until they were both completely satisfied. It was almost dawn before they fell asleep in each other's arms.  
  
End Chapter 6 


	7. Chapter 7

Greater Than Good  
  
Liz Gregg  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Five in the morning arrived cold and dark. Caine took care to be quiet while getting dressed. Kissing Mary Margaret softly, he whispered good-bye so that she would not awaken but later would remember.  
  
Caine waited by the door for Kermit to arrive. Ever punctual, the ex-mercenary pulled up at precisely the correct time. They exchanged brief greetings and then by unspoken agreement the trip to the airport proceeded in silence.  
  
When they pulled up to the departure gate, Kermit finally spoke. "Caine, I'm getting very uneasy about this. There is something very strange happening. It's a feeling I'm getting that's...well, it's almost tangible. Do you feel it, too?"  
  
For a long moment Caine said nothing as he struggled for words. At last the priest looked at Kermit and the cop took off his sunglasses. The detective's eyes widened as if stunned by something he saw in Caine's eyes.  
"I have been living with this terrible feeling for three days," Caine whispered hoarsely. "It has become very powerful, but has not yet peaked. I believe it soon will...perhaps this morning."  
  
"Caine, I can't imagine what it's like to live with this...ability. Peter told me about the Earthquake last year, and that you knew it was coming..." Kermit paused and shook his head. He seemed unsure about what to say next. He continued with, "Hell, I don't know if what you have is a gift or a curse. When I get back to the office I'll do whatever I can to help. Contact me when you get home."  
  
Caine waited in line, went through customs and had no problems with the one small bag slung over his back. He walked to the boarding area and sat down next to a small family -- parents and two children. The littlest child, a boy about two years old, busily knocked over chairs and picked them up again. His sister looked about six years old. She sat twirling her curly blonde hair but her lips trembled. Caine noticed her green eyes dart nervously around the room, peek at Caine and try to smile.  
  
"What is your name?" the priest asked gently.  
  
"Ashley," she answered.  
  
"Ashley is a very pretty name. Why is someone with such a pretty name so sad?"  
  
"I'm sad because my little kitty-cat, Carrot, has to fly to Paris all alone. She--she's in a cage in the belly of the plane...and she is all alone."  
  
"Yes, that is reason to be sad." Caine agreed sympathetically.  
  
Ashley's eyes widened. "It is? My mommy and daddy keep saying don't be silly and Carrot will be fine."  
  
"It is not silly to be sad. But your mommy and daddy are correct. Carrot will be fine." Caine leaned closer, and as if revealing a secret, continued very softly. "Kitties are very special animals. They know how to spend time alone and not be lonely."  
  
"They do?" Ashley asked, surprise in her voice.  
  
"Yes," Caine nodded his head with authority. "Your kitty will take a long nap, and when she does, she will have the most wonderful dreams. About you, Ashley, and how you both will play when she is free again."  
  
"She will? Honest?"  
  
Caine made a cross over his heart. "Honest," he answered gravely.  
  
They started announcing the boarding of the plane, and Ashley's mother called for her. Before she went to her mommy, Ashley smiled and waved goodbye to Kwai Chang Caine.  
  
Looking around the crowded plane, Caine guessed it was over-booked. Finally, all the bags were stowed, passengers seated and seat belts locked.  
  
The Shaolin closed his eyes and reflected on all that had happened. Separating into two men, one good and one evil had been a terrifying ordeal - something no human should have to endure. Keeping himself distant from people who loved him was wrong, too. Remnants of his vision returned, What is greater than good....Love. Somewhere in his search for truth and inner peace, the priest lost sight of that simple fact.  
  
His thoughts then returned to Peter; his love for his son had grown even stronger. Suddenly, an intensely urgent feeling overwhelmed Caine, but he had no clear reason why.  
  
The Shaolin had no choice: he had to wait. It was seven thirty in the morning and due to a last minute hold-up the flight had been delayed for over an hour. A burst of static blasting from an intercom startled nearly everyone.  
  
"Attention all passengers. The plane is scheduled to take-off momentarily. We are sorry for any inconvenience caused by this delay.  
  
Passengers shifted in their seats uncomfortably. Caine sat, eyes closed, meditating, and was able to hear the whispered conversation between two flight attendants standing several rows away.  
  
"I wonder what on earth was so important that they held up the flight?"  
  
"Some emergency package. It had to be on this flight, too. Who knows why."  
  
Some emergency package...had to be on this flight...  
  
Caine cleared his mind of all remaining thoughts and the rest of his answer came in an alarming vision: the package contained a bomb. He could clearly read the digital display of twenty-five minutes and forty-two seconds. Caine knew that was all the time he had to prevent a catastrophe. In his mind, he could see the bomb, and understood it had been locked securely in a steel case. He knew there was no time to disarm it.  
  
Caine had to act quickly. He stood and walked to the nearest flight attendant, a young man whose nametag read Ray. Lightly touching the man's arm, Caine sensed distrust and hostility. Precious seconds ticked by.  
  
Caine scanned the plane. He saw another flight attendant, a young woman. When he touched her shoulder Caine felt a warm, stable current of energy, and knew she'd be the one to help him. Her nametag read Jeanette.  
  
"Excuse me, Jeanette," Caine said, and placed his hands on her arms, turning her to face him. She looked into his eyes, squinted, and asked, "Can I help you with something, sir?"  
  
"My name is Caine. It is important that you listen to me and that you trust me." The priest brushed her cheek with his thumb. "We have no time, and are in terrible danger." He felt her suspicion, so he focused with all his strength. "I am a priest, Jeanette. I speak the truth. Will you help me?"  
  
Caine felt a shiver run through her body, and knew that nothing like this had ever happened to her. Caine held his breath, and when he felt her begin to trust him, he let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"I don't know why I should--ah, forget it." Jeanette touched his arm. "My friends call me Jet. What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Jet, we must get everyone off the plane. There is a bomb aboard that will explode in less than twenty-five minutes." Jet's face grew pale. "Your Captain must have all the fuel offloaded. Your job will be to conduct an orderly exit." Caine grasped her shoulders. "We must remain calm, Jet. I will talk to your Captain. You begin the exit." The priest smiled and squeezed her hand. "You care very much for all you passengers. You can do this and save them, Jet."  
  
Jet nodded. "I understand, Caine. Let's go."  
  
Wondering if she would ever work for an airline again, Jet walked to the front of the plane and activated the intercom. She thought a moment, and then switched off the line that transmitted to the cockpit.  
  
"Attention all passengers. Due to mechanical difficulties, we must exit the plane. We must exit immediately and promptly to avoid unnecessary... fume inhalation. Please listen carefully to my directions."  
  
Fume inhalation? It was the best she could do off the top of her head -- and it worked, implying just enough danger to get everyone moving quickly.  
  
Caine reached the cockpit and encountered the jittery flight attendant, Ray. Apparently Jet's instructions had not reached first class.  
  
"Sorry, sir," Ray said. "You must find your seat immediately. We are preparing for lift off." Caine chose a tactic and affected a western drawl.  
  
"Well, sonny boy, I'm little ole Jet's Uncle Kwai. She promised me I could see the cockpit." Caine chuckled and firmly swung Ray out of the way. "It'll just be a quickie, so-to-speak." Laughing again, Caine stepped inside the cockpit and shut the door quickly.  
  
The co-pilot swung around. He was Chinese. "Master Caine! What are you doing here?"  
  
Unbelievably, Caine recognized the co-pilot. The young man's name was Kenny; he had grown up in Chinatown and had family ties to the Ancient. Caine silently gave thanks for his good fortune.  
  
"Kenny, we are in grave danger. There is a bomb on this aircraft, and it will explode in less than thirty minutes. There is no time to disarm it. Jet is ushering the passengers off the plane. You must call your maintenance team to offload as much fuel as possible."  
  
The pilot laughed harshly. "What kind of crazy story is this? Ken, is this a practical joke?"  
  
Kenny turned to the pilot. "Captain Kirk, we must do as he says. Please, trust me. Trust him."  
  
Caine thought to himself, Captain Kirk? Is this truly possible? He knew all about the famous crew of the Starship Enterprise when Peter, comparing Caine to Mr. Spock, had explained it to him. The priest watched as Kirk looked at him long and hard. Finally, the captain switched on his radio and spoke to flight control, issuing the orders.  
  
Caine suddenly sensed the presence of Ray, and he realized the man had been lurking outside the door, listening to the entire conversation. Ray ran away and proceeded to exit the plane from the door closest to the cockpit. A passenger in first class yelled, "Hey! Where are you going in such a hurry?"  
  
"I'm getting the hell off this plane! There's a bomb!"  
  
Caine watched helplessly from the cockpit door as the word spread quickly and panic set in. Jet's orderly exit quickly turned into a riot. The potential for trampled people grew by the second. A deep voice boomed from the intercom.  
  
"This is Captain Richard Kirk. Do not panic! There is sufficient time to exit safely, but only if everyone remains calm. Please follow the flight attendant's instructions and no one will be hurt. Thank you."  
  
Relief flooded Caine when Kirk's authoritative voice did the trick, instilling enough calm for the exit to progress in state of restrained hysteria. Once back in the cockpit, Kirk turned to look at Caine who looked back at him with one raised eyebrow.  
  
"This is not the Enterprise," Kirk snapped. "I am not James T. Kirk and I can't beam everyone out of here." Caine tried to hide his disappointment; he had hoped to tell Peter he had met the famous Captain Kirk.  
  
"A special team is meeting us at an unused landing strip," Kirk continued. "They can de-fuel the plane there, then drive us off. How much time do we have left?"  
  
"Sixteen minutes, twenty seconds," Caine replied.  
  
"I'm not going to ask you how you know that."  
  
Caine nodded. "That is wise."  
  
Jet popped her head in the cockpit. "Everyone is off this bird, JT, flight attendants included."  
  
"Good work, Jet. Now get yourself off. You too, Caine."  
  
Jet left but Caine did not move. "I am staying with you."  
  
Kirk quickly taxied the plane to the unused airstrip. The fuel cars were ready to siphon the fuel out of the plane. As soon as the jet arrived, the crew quickly went to work. Kirk and Kenny shut all the systems down and then Kirk ordered his co-pilot to disembark the aircraft.  
  
"How much time remaining, Caine?" Kirk asked.  
  
"Three minutes, fifty-five seconds."  
  
"Most of the fuel is gone. Let's get out of here. Caine? Did you hear me?"  
  
Caine stood motionless, staring blankly ahead. In his mind's eye, he could see the little girl standing with her family.  
  
Ashley's face was wet with tears as she clung to her mother's side. "Where is Carrot? Will she be okay?"  
  
"I don't know, honey." Her mother kissed Ashley's cheek, and soothed, "I'll try to find out as soon as I can."  
  
"Go," said Caine. "There is a life on this plane."  
  
"A life?" asked Kirk. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"It is not...a human life, but it is nonetheless a living creature."  
  
"You're not making any sense!" Kirk snapped. "Quit the cryptic mumbo-jumbo crap and leave the plane with us. Now!"  
  
Caine paused, then, "Yes, of course. You are right." The priest laid a hand on Kirk's shoulder and ushered the captain ahead. As soon as Kirk went safely through the door the Shaolin slammed it shut and locked it. Caine had three minutes to get the cat.  
  
Kermit arrived at the precinct at about seven fifteen. Head kept down, he walked into his office and flung his coat on the chair. Things are damn strange. The detective powered up his PC and started sniffing around.  
  
Starting from scratch, he returned to the files where he found Laura's picture. Kermit couldn't find them but that was not unusual -- the job had been completed. Next, he retraced the search he had made to find the source of the job. Although he probably wouldn't find anything, he wanted to be thorough. While he waited for the information, he thought, We still know absolutely nothing about who's behind all this. Leaving the search to execute, he exited his office to find a cup of coffee.  
  
Kermit saw Mary Margaret standing by the coffeepot, stirring her coffee. She turned around, still looking down at her cup. When she looked up, Kermit was shocked to see how pale and tired she appeared. He knew she had tied one on the night before but she'd done that before and been all right.  
  
Meeting his eyes, she said, "Good morning, Kermit. Should I start thanking you now? I know I'll owe you the rest of my life."  
  
Kermit half smiled. He walked over to her and loosely draped his arm around her shoulders. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go hide out in my home away from home."  
  
While Kermit escorted her into his office he glared around the office, forcing anyone watching to look away. Kermit shut the door and turned around to face her. "Skalany, ix-nay the 'I owe you' routine. You owe me nothing. I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done for me. Love makes you do crazy things, how well I know that."  
  
"No matter what you say, I owe you. But thanks, Kermit." Flinging her arms around him, she gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.  
  
Kermit grinned and returned the hug. "Okay! Enough already," he protested. Then his eyes shifted to the PC monitor.  
  
"Holy Toledo!" He shouted, wrenching free from the embrace. His trained eyes scanned a screen full of addresses linked to the request for the fake photo.  
  
Kwai Change Caine found the cat by sheer determination. First, he had found the empty carrier. No one had noticed that the cage had not been locked; the little orange cat had escaped. Having two minutes to find the cat and get out, Caine had been close to despair when he sensed something at his feet. It was Carrot.  
  
"There you are, precious little life." Caine scooped up the soft kitty. "Now we must both get out before we are blown to bits." He managed to find a cargo hold door and force it open. He dropped to the ground with the kitty in one hand. He had less than thirty seconds left to get away from the plane. Shielding the cat the best he could, he ran away from the plane.  
  
Captain Richard Kirk saw Caine run away from the aircraft. Turning to Ken, he said, "He has less than 30 seconds to get away from...." The plane exploded. The force of the blast knocked Caine in the air, and he hit the ground hard.  
  
"Where did these links come from?" Kermit's faced the computer in his office and his fingers clicked furiously on both the mouse and the keyboard. "This is incredible. There was nothing linked to that file before. Damn!"  
  
His eyes scanned the data as quickly as they could. "Skalany, look at this with me. I don't believe what I'm seeing." Skalany had already been peering over the detective's shoulder. Now she pulled a chair over so she could look closely. "Isn't that Peter's initials, and his ID for the system?"  
  
"You bet your sweet bippy it is. Someone has taken great pains to create a trail to trace back to Peter Caine. It appears as if he put in the request for the picture, and manufactured illegal cash withdrawals. Someone has gone to a lot of work here. Wait a minute, what's all this nonsense?" Fingers flying, Kermit ripped the sunglasses off his face, peering at the screen as if he could mentally will the data to appear faster.  
  
"Kermit, what is all this information about plastic explosives? Are you hitting the wrong keys?"  
  
Kermit glared at her. "Of course I'm not hitting the wrong keys!" he barked. "This is as bad as it gets."  
  
Mary Margaret squinted, her face drawn and confused. She asked, "Kermit, are you telling me Peter has built a bomb?"  
  
"Of course not! Think, Skalany! Peter is being framed. Someone wants it to look like Peter had that picture made and built a bomb. What would they have Peter do with a bomb?" Kermit and Skalany stared at each other.  
  
"The plane," Mary Margaret whispered.  
  
Kermit looked at his watch. It was almost eight. "Caine's plane should be in the air by now." They both shot out of their chairs, knocking them over.  
  
"Skalany," Kermit barked, "Call Peter. I'll call the airport."  
  
When he finally answered the phone, Peter Caine's voice sounded groggy. Skalany had barely said hello when Peter launched into a description of a dream he had -- about an alarm clock that wouldn't stop ringing.  
  
Skalany cut him off. "Peter, you have got to meet me at the airport right away. Your father may be in trouble."  
  
"Wait a minute," said Peter. "It's like I can't stop this dream. I'm still seeing it, some kind of timer. It's counting down, and it looks like there's twenty minutes. Does this have anything to do with my father?"  
  
Skalany paused. "It might. Hold on, Peter."  
  
She turned just as Kermit's door flew open. Kermit looked up from his cell phone. Karen Simms stood in the doorway. Jody stood behind Simms. The captain's face looked grim. "A bomb has just exploded -- in a jet at the international airport. The plane was on the ground. There is no word yet on casualties. Mary Margaret, the flight had been scheduled to Paris. That's all we know so far."  
  
Kermit watched all the color drain from Mary Margaret's face.  
"I'll pull some strings and see what else I can find out," the Captain said gently.  
  
Simms left the office but Jody stayed. "I guess the evil can no longer hide and is making itself apparent."  
  
Skalany and Kermit both turned and stared at her. Skalany forced herself to focus.  
  
"Kermit," Skalany said, "Peter is having a...vision. Of a timer counting down."  
  
Kermit let out a deep breath. He looked back at the screen and frowned. Leaning closer and clicking away, he said, "Now what in blazes is this? Am I reading this right, or am I seeing double?" He paused a moment than growled, "Skalany! Tell Peter to hold. Get your eyes over here!"  
  
Skalany looked at the screen with Kermit, while Jody peered from behind them.  
  
"The data is linking him to two bombs." Skalany confirmed. Kermit said it first. "We've got to get everyone in this building out of here!"  
  
Skalany added, "We've got less than twenty minutes."  
  
Talking rapidly into the phone, Skalany said, "Peter, this is serious. Don't go to the airport. Come to the precinct, now."  
  
Kermit stared at her. She covered the phone with her hand. "If anything has happened to Caine, it's already a done deal. He may be able to help at the precinct, and if the worse is true, he's better off here with us." She talked to Peter, "How many minutes are left on that timer?"  
  
Peter answered, "Nineteen minutes and thirty five seconds. Is it a bomb?"  
  
"We think so. We've got to get everyone out. I'll meet you outside." Skalany hung up. The mass exit of the building began.  
  
An ambulance sped over to where Caine and the cat were laying on the ground. Caine had been knocked unconscious but was beginning to wake up. Two EMTs lifted Caine to a stretcher. They couldn't loosen his grip on the kitty so they let him hold her. The cat just seemed happier in Caine's hand.  
  
As they shut the door and took off, Caine started shaking his head back and forth. The priest tried to sit. "You just calm down, sir, and lay back."  
  
"The... passengers?"  
  
"Everyone's safe, sir. The plane was destroyed, of course, but no one was hurt. And the airport is undamaged, too."  
  
Caine brought the kitty up to his chest and started petting her, calming her down. He gently felt the kitty's leg.  
  
"What is your name?" Caine asked the young woman.  
  
"My name is Tasha," she replied, "You need to lay there and take it easy."  
  
"Tasha, where are you taking me?" he asked.  
  
"We are taking you to the hospital." As if sensing a fight, the young women started, "You have a nasty bump on your head and could have a concussion. Your kitty seems to have a broken leg."  
  
This time Caine did sit up. "You really must lay down, sir." She protested, her voice ringing with forced authority. She looked young enough to be his daughter.  
  
Caine swung his legs over the stretcher. "We both know I'm not going to the hospital," he said gently. "If you insist on taking me there, I will not go inside. I will walk back to the airport and deliver this kitty to its owner, a little girl, six years old. She is crying for her now."  
  
"The cat needs to go to a vet," Tasha replied. "Her leg might be broken. We can let the little girl know her kitty is safe." Tasha rose both eyebrows hopefully.  
  
Caine laughed, which then made him wince. He reached and touched Tasha's face. "I know your heart is good. The kitty's leg is bruised, not broken, and she needs the love and attention of her owner. As for me, I will be fine. Now tell your driver to take me to the gate."  
  
"Okay, Mister." Tasha sighed. "You have me wrapped around your finger, and you know it." She smiled at Caine and spoke to the driver. They argued a little and the driver finally made a U-turn. Caine then lost all color on his face and gasped.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to change your mind?" Tasha asked.  
  
Caine shut his eyes. He saw the timer again. How can this be? The bomb had gone off. Maybe the young lady had been correct. Maybe he had hit his head too hard. The ambulance lurched to a stop.  
  
Caine pet the kitty once more and handed her to Tasha.  
  
"Please find the little girl who belongs to this kitty. Her name is Ashley. She is six years old with blond hair. I must go."  
  
"Wait, Mister!" Ashley called after him, "At least tell me your name."  
After Caine climbed out of the vehicle he turned and said, "My name is Caine."  
  
"Where are you going, Mister Caine?" She asked.  
  
"I must find my son, Peter. I fear there is another bomb."  
  
She watched him walk away. "Wait a minute!" She hurriedly whispered something to the driver. "Sam will take you where you want to go. I'll take the kitty to Ashley, don't worry."  
  
Caine climbed back in the van and Tasha jumped out, Carrot in hand. "Good luck, Mister Caine." Caine nodded, and she shut the doors.  
  
"I don't know how you do it, Mister. Where to?" Sam said.  
  
The One Hundred and First precinct."  
  
"You got it." They were off.  
  
End Chapter 7 


	8. Chapter 8

Greater Than Good  
  
Liz Gregg  
  
Chapter 8  
  
Kermit watched chaos and mayhem storm through the One Hundred and First Precinct. The word spread that there was a bomb in the building. An evacuation progressed in a less than orderly fashion, but eventually everyone got out of the building.  
  
Everyone, that is, except Kermit. Heart pounding, he searched for the bomb. He estimated that he had fifteen minutes left. Carefully, he searched the precinct, clutching his tool kit, opening doors, looking as thoroughly yet rapidly as he could. In the basement, he came across a door that was locked from the inside.  
  
Bingo, he thought, this has to be it. Instinctively he drew his gun, knowing there had to be a trap. But he couldn't have anticipated the dart that hit him low on the leg. The razor sharp needle sliced cleanly through his sock and pierced his ankle. Before passing out, he guessed the dart was triggered by motion. Damn. There must be more of them. With his last bit of energy, Kermit moved his body so the rest of darts were fired. Just before he succumbed to unconsciousness, he thought, I can't believe this! I'm done for by darts!  
  
Outside, Mary Margaret, Jody and Captain Simms stood together. Simms' cell phone beeped and the captain answered it. Finally, she said, "Thanks, Bob, keep me posted."  
  
"All the passengers were safely evacuated from the plane before the bomb went off, thanks to a bald man with an earring warning the crew." Mary Margaret grinned, shaking with relief. Then Simms quickly added, "But the same man stayed on the plane to....find a cat." Simms raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "That's all my source knows. There is no body in the debris. Man nor cat. They can't find Caine."  
  
"Damn him!" Skalany muttered. But she knew she could expect nothing less from him.  
  
"Where is Kermit? Should we go in after him?"  
  
Captain Simms replied, "Give him time to do his job." But she kept looking at her watch. "Where's Detective Caine?" she snapped.  
  
"Civilian Caine is right here," Peter said, standing behind Jody and squeezing her shoulders. "We have thirteen more minutes. Has Kermit found the bomb? Where's the bomb squad?"  
  
Simms answered him, "They're on their way. We haven't heard from Kermit yet."  
  
At that moment they heard the brief howl of a siren. Peter looked puzzled. "Has someone been injured?"  
  
"Not to my knowledge," clipped Simms. They turned to the ambulance just in time to see Kwai Chang Caine.  
  
The Shaolin turned and bowed to the driver, then started walking toward the group. He surveyed the gathering, meeting eyes with each one, lingering a longer moment with Peter, and then Mary Margaret. He clasped his hands together and bowed.  
  
"I am pleased to find you are all in one piece."  
  
His arrival acted as a release valve. A chorus of "Caine!" and "Pop!" filled the air and they moved toward him. Caine's arms stretched to wrap around all of them in a heartfelt group hug. They quickly disentangled and waited while Caine closed his eyes and was silent.  
  
The priest opened his eyes. "Kermit is in trouble and needs help."  
  
Peter's arm stayed draped around his father. "Come on, Pop. Let's get Kermit."  
  
"No, my son."  
  
"I'm coming with you, Pop." Peter insisted  
  
"You...will go alone. I must stay here." Caine hesitated a moment, then said, "I was injured by the blast and must sit down."  
  
The priest gracefully lowered himself to the ground and sat in full lotus.  
  
"Peter, there is no time to argue. You must go now!"  
  
Peter nodded and ran up the steps.  
  
As soon as Peter entered the building, Caine started to stand. Two firm yet gentle hands pushed him back down. Mary Margaret knelt on the ground in front of him, hands still on his shoulders, and kissed him.  
  
"I thought I told you to never scare me like that again."  
  
Caine shrugged. "You did not specify a plane."  
  
"Oh, I see." Mary Margaret looked deep in his eyes. "I know what you're doing with Peter, letting him handle this himself. Sitting, however, is a really good idea. You've been through a lot. Did you find the cat?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow and said, "I did."  
  
She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him and whispered in his ear, "I love you, Kwai Chang Caine." She stood. "I suppose you know how much time is left, too?"  
  
"Nine minutes twenty seconds."  
  
She held both hands in front of her, palms out, as if attaching him to that spot. "Don't move. I have to talk to Captain Simms. I'll be back." She walked away.  
  
Peter Caine acted on a hunch and stopped at Kermit's office. He found the PC and studied the monitor. "I certainly have been a busy! Not just one, but two bombs!" As he talked out loud to himself, he noticed the references to his mother's picture but had no time to look. "This is the way we build a bomb, build a bomb, build a bomb," he sang softly to himself as he memorized as much of the plan as he could. In his mind, he could see the minutes ticking away. "That's all, folks!"  
  
Peter ran to the basement and he immediately noticed the open door. Kermit was lying on the floor surrounded by the darts. The young Shaolin knelt and checked his friend. Kermit's pulse still beat and his breathing was shallow. Peter didn't know what or how much poison was used but he did know one thing: Kermit had risked his life for all of them.  
  
"Hang in there, buddy. I'll help you as soon as I can. I have an explosive situation to attend to first."  
  
Scooping up the tool kit Kermit dropped he found the bomb. Recalling the plans, Peter started, excruciatingly slowly, to disarm the bomb.  
  
"First this little guy," he muttered. Snip. "Next this nasty old fellow." Snip. There were two more wires and it was critical that only the right one be cut. Clearing his head, he allowed the image of the correct one to enter his mind. He held his breath. Snip.  
  
The clock stopped - one minute, forty-seven seconds to spare.  
  
"Not even close." Then he looked at Kermit and cursed. Kermit's complexion was white, and Peter feared he'd stopped breathing.  
  
Outside, Caine jumped up. He ran to the ambulance that was just pulling away and shouted, "Sam, stop!"  
  
Sam stopped the van and rolled down the window. "What is it now, Mister Caine? I can't be hauling you all over town."  
  
Caine opened the door and yanked Sam out of the van.  
  
"There is a brave man in the basement fighting for his life. He has stopped breathing. You must get the oxygen and go down there immediately and help him!"  
  
"Yes, sir!" Sam ran to the back of the ambulance and grabbed his gear. Caine waited for him and gripped Sam's arm. "Follow me."  
  
They ran to the basement and found Peter and Kermit. Peter was administering CPR.  
  
"Peter," Caine said, "I have brought help."  
  
The young priest stood and let Sam start his work. Peter was trembling and his eyes were full. "Pop, it's bad. I-I think Kermit is-Kermit is-"  
  
Caine gripped both Peter's arms. "He is not dead, my son. His soul is still here with us."  
  
Caine dropped to the floor next to Sam, who worked efficiently on Kermit. He attached the oxygen mask but still found no pulse.  
  
"He has been poisoned," Caine said. "We must get him to a hospital where his body can be kept alive until we find an antidote." Caine placed both hands on Kermit's head and face. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and directed every bit of energy he possessed into Kermit  
  
"I got a pulse!" Sam shouted. Kermit's eyes fluttered but did not open. "Let's get him out of here!"  
  
Mary Margaret waited with Jody and Simms, praying that Kermit would survive. Everyone had heard about Kermit as they carried him down the steps and to the ambulance, the crowd made a path and lined both sides. No one made a sound, and the air crackled with emotion.  
  
"I'll ride with him," said Peter.  
  
"I will too," said Captain Simms. "I owe him that. And a lot more."  
  
"They can keep him alive at the hospital," Caine explained to Jody and Mary Margaret, once the ambulance had sped off, "but not save him. He will die, soon, unless I find the antidote for this poison."  
  
"Where will you find it?" asked Jody.  
  
"I must consult Lo Si."  
  
"But Caine, do you trust him? How do you know he won't kill Kermit?"  
  
"Lo Si? Kill Kermit? What are you two talking about?" Mary Margaret sounded incredulous.  
  
"I must go now and find out," answered Caine. "It is the only chance Kermit has."  
  
"You're right," conceded Jody. "Skalany, you and I should help the chief hold things together until Captain Simms gets back. And I can fill you in on the details."  
  
"Tell Captain Simms to call us from the hospital," Mary Margaret said. "Come home," she squeezed Caine's hands, "when this is all done. Good luck."  
  
Mary Margaret watched Caine leave and then she looked at her watch. It's only eight-thirty in the morning. What a way to start the day, she thought as she wearily climbed the precinct steps.  
  
End Chapter 8 


	9. Chapter 9

Greater Than Good  
  
Liz Gregg  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Caine stood in the doorway of the ancient one's apothecary. He watched Lo Si grinding herbs with mortar and pestle. "What is wrong, Kwai Chang Caine? Do you fear I may turn around and blow a poison dart at you?"  
  
The sound of the Ancient's voice caused relief to flood through Caine. He did not yet understand everything but he knew all was well with Lo Si.  
  
"Master, forgive me for doubting you.  
  
"My feelings are hurt, Kwai Chang Caine, that you could think me capable of such a heinous crime." Lo Si smiled. "As you well know, my dear friend, my feelings are not hurt. I am honored that I could fool you."  
  
Caine walked to the worktable started handling the herbs, tasting them and feeling them. He stopped at one and started to speak. "Have you--"  
  
"Yes, I have. But it is not right." Lo Si gestured with a gnarled hand. "Taste that one."  
  
Caine tried it. "Yes, of course. How far along are you?"  
  
"It is almost done, Kwai Chang Caine. The poison was very strong, and very old. It is one I have not dealt with for many years."  
  
"Master, perhaps you could enlighten me as to the purpose of this exercise?"  
  
"Must everything have a purpose?"  
  
"That is true," Caine replied evenly. "However, I believe that perhaps, on this occasion, there may be a lesson to be learned."  
  
Lo Si answered as he worked. "Kwai Change Caine, my chi was poisoned when I would not let my daughter and granddaughter into my life or into my heart. When my chi healed, I could see you, too, were shunning those who loved you. You were ready to leave any time. You would have left us now."  
  
Caine waited while Lo Si tasted more herbs. "When the men approached me about the picture, I knew there was a powerful force of evil at work. Knowing you would certainly fight the evil I saw an opportunity for you to face your demons. I went along with the scheme. I gave you the picture, blocking my so that you would believe I did not know it was a fake. What do you call it? Going under the covers."  
  
Caine laughed. "Going undercover, I believe."  
  
"Yes, that is right. Yet it seems that one of us has truly gone under the covers. Is that not true, Kwai Chang Caine?"  
  
"And having me believe you are Ping Hai," Caine continued, ignoring Lo Si's teasing, "is this also part of my lesson?"  
  
"When it is the proper time, all will be revealed."  
  
Caine had no choice but to wait for that explanation. The younger priest sighed, still at odds with his master's explanation. "Lo Si, why did you not speak to me of this impending danger?"  
  
For the first time Lo Si stopped working, and he shot a fiery glance at Caine. "You do not listen to a word I say about your personal affairs! That is why I cut myself off from you." The older Shaolin continued working. "I knew I would not keep quiet. You would have left and been gone for good! I hope you have learned that running away serves no purpose! You have a family here who loves you. It is time to stay home, Kwai Chang Caine. Stay home and let those who love you help you."  
  
Caine had the grace not to argue. "So once again, I had to do battle with myself. Only this time I struggled with my chi united."  
  
"Yes. You had to reach out to your friends for help and love. You could not depend only on Peter. Or on me." The ancient handed Caine a small, glass tube. "I am finished. Hurry and take this to Kermit. If he takes this at once, he will survive."  
  
Caine swiftly delivered the herbal antidote to the hospital. The doctor knew the priest from the community and allowed Caine to administer the medication. The strong poison required three doses to be given every two hours.  
  
Finally, the antidote took a firm hold and Caine watched Kermit start to come out of the coma. Opening his eyes, the cop managed to lift his head and look at Caine. Kermit had expended an enormous amount of energy fighting the poison, so he was completely exhausted.  
  
"You're still in one piece and still bald as a billiard ball," Kermit rasped weakly. "Everyone else okay?"  
  
"Yes, my friend. Everyone is well."  
  
"Did you get me out of there?"  
  
"No. Peter did."  
  
"I hate it when that happens," Kermit muttered. "Now I'm going to have to thank him."  
  
Kermit's eyes started to close, so he might not have heard Caine say, "It is you they will thank, Kermit. Now sleep well." Kermit's head sank into the pillow and he fell into a deep, healing sleep.  
  
Doing something he would not dare to do while Kermit was awake, Caine gently stroked Kermit's forehead, smoothing back the detective's dark hair. "Yes, sleep well, my friend. We will talk later."  
  
Peter Caine stayed at the hospital while Caine cared for Kermit. He watched but did not interfere, because he wanted his father to concentrate on their friend. When Caine finally left Kermit's bed, Peter followed and then joined him as Caine moved through the city they both called home.  
  
They walked together in silence, Peter stealing an occasional furtive glance. On one of the glimpses he saw his father smile.  
  
"What is it you wish to ask me, my son?"  
  
Both men stopped and faced each other on the sidewalk.  
  
"Ask you?" Peter replied. "First things first, Pop." The young man grabbed his Father's arms and pulled him into a crushing embrace. "I'm so glad you're back, Father," Peter said, his voice choking with emotion. Father and son lingered in the hug, oblivious to the rest of humanity passing around them.  
  
"I am glad to be back, my son," Caine acknowledged, and freed one hand to wipe his own eyes.  
  
Finally, Peter pulled away and stepped back. "And now I want to shake the daylights out of you! What on earth possessed you to pull a stunt like this? And on your own, too. I -- I thought you were gone." The young priest sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "And I'm not ashamed to say my heart was broken. Then you show up, riding in an ambulance! The big hero, fresh from rescuing a plane full of people and-- and a cat! If I wasn't so tired I'd be furious."  
  
They both started walking again. "Peter, so much has happened," Caine said. "I have learned, am still learning, the hardest lesson of my life. You are not the only one who has unresolved issues concerning his father."  
  
Caine's openness shocked Peter. The young man grabbed his father's arm, forcing them to stop again. "Are you talking about you, Pop?" Their gazes locked. "You and your father?"  
  
"How is it that your grandfather is my father," Caine said wryly, "and I am your Pop?"  
  
Caine started walking again, as if the physical motion facilitated the flow of his thoughts. Peter ran to catch up.  
  
"My father was gone most of the time. As a child, it was difficult for me to understand. His absences were never talked about or explained. Growing up, I devised my own explanations, the kind that children often conjure. I have made many decisions in my life that have been shaped by my childhood thoughts, what I believed I had learned from my father's wanderings." Caine stopped and took his son's hand. "As an adult, I came to understand about the war and my father's research. But as you well know," Caine looked straight into Peter's eyes, "it is not easy to change the images that are imprinted on you as a child. It...is possible that I have been mistaken."  
  
Both men started walking again. "But it is not too late. I will try to break the cycle started by my father, and his father. I will stop wandering and face whatever comes, with you, and with all my friends."  
  
"Wow. That's a lot to handle," said Peter, burying his hands deeply in his pockets.  
  
"Yes," agreed his father.  
  
They stopped in front of Delancey's. By now, it was early in the evening.  
  
"And you, Peter. You have taken the final step. You have received the brands."  
  
Peter looked at his own arms, covered with the cotton of his long sleeved shirt.  
  
"What are thinking, my son?"  
  
"I...I'm not ready to talk about it. Not just yet." Peter leaned forward and kissed Caine on the forehead. "Come on, Pop. Let's stop in and see who's here."  
  
Karen Simms, Jody and Chief Strenlich sat together at one table. Peter and Caine walked over and sat down. Peter spoke first.  
  
"Kermit regained consciousness for a few seconds before we left. He talked to Pop, complaining that he would have to thank me. Sounds like he's going to be fine." Peter looked around. "Where's Skalany?"  
  
Karen said, "She looked so miserable and so exhausted, I let her go home early." Looking pointedly at Caine, she added, "I certainly hope no one interferes with her getting the rest she needs."  
  
Jody smiled at Caine. "I'm sorry, Caine, I guess I was a little late detecting the evil."  
  
Caine smiled, reached over and squeezed her hand. "You were wonderful, Jody. We were all late uncovering this diabolical plot."  
  
Simms looked at Peter. "You're going to have a lot of explaining to do, Civilian Caine."  
  
Peter winced. "I know. Even though I was set up, it doesn't look good on paper. Anything new on who is behind it?"  
  
Jody answered, "Not yet. But as soon as Kermit gets strong he'll unravel this mess. Believe me, we will find out."  
  
"Not to change the subject, but Pop, you're going to have to put up with me for a while. I took you seriously. I canceled my lease and they found another tenant. It'll take me a little while to find another place. Should be no more than a week or two."  
  
"I will not be moving in with you, my son."  
  
"Come on, Pop, it'll just be for a while!"  
  
"Peter, you misunderstand. It is not because of you."  
  
Peter looked confused. "Then what?"  
  
"I believe the young man is in need of some enlightenment," said Karen.  
  
Peter raised both hands. "What? Will somebody please tell me?"  
  
"I--" Caine gestured at the ceiling. "And Mary Margaret...." The priest lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  
  
Peter banged both hands on the table, than grabbed his father's shoulder. "Pop, let me try and understand this. You and Skalany are-- I mean you both--" Peter looked around the table. "Everyone here knows this and I don't? Did-did this just happen?" Peter shook his head. "Boy, you must have been really broken up about leaving me again."  
  
Caine stood up and patted his son's shoulder. "Mary Margaret and I were both despondent. We...gave comfort to each other. And now I must," Caine squeezed Peter's arms, "go home."  
  
Caine winked at his son. Peter stared at him in astonishment. The young priest was still reeling when he thought of something important. He shot up and ran after his father.  
  
Peter caught up with Caine and looped his arm over his father's shoulders.  
  
"Boy, you sure are a man on a mission, Dad. An armed missile."  
  
"What is it, my son?"  
  
"Pop, can you stop, please? For just one minute?"  
  
Caine stopped and faced Peter.  
  
"I'm -- I'm afraid, Father. I'm afraid there isn't room in Chinatown for two Shaolin priests. And I don't mean you and the Ancient. I mean us. Room for two Caines in Chinatown."  
  
"You are correct," Caine said gravely.  
  
"Then what do we do?"  
  
"There is not room for two Shaolin Priest Caines in Chinatown. But there is ample room for a father and his son. Peter and Pop." Caine smiled and lightly punched Peter in the arm. Peter smiled.  
  
Then Caine suddenly flung his arms around Peter. "I love you, my son."  
  
Caine hugged Peter tightly, but this time he did not hold back, and he allowed himself to draw strength from his son, in the same way he had given his own strength during their turbulent reunion.  
  
"I love you, too, Pop."  
  
As they went their separate ways, Peter stopped and called out one more question.  
  
"Hey, Dad! Come to Chinatown. Ask for Caine. He will help you. But now, who does that mean?"  
  
Caine shrugged and smiled. He thought of his grandfather and his father, him and his son. "All of us, my son. All of us."  
  
....and the legend continues.  
  
The End 


End file.
